Through Broken Eyes
by WenchofNarcad
Summary: Heart Broken and alone, the Phantom of the Opera continues to dwell in the solitude of an unfriendly dungeon five cellars down. Kristen Verlaine lost everything to a house fire, including her eyesite. Can a blind woman rescue Erik from a lifetime of pain?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters... damn it!**

Kristen Verlaine sat nervously in the doctor's office in the city of Paris. The smell of chloroform lingered in the air, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallways on the other side of the door. With everyone she heard walking by, her heart sped up, was it the doctor? or just another passer by. She hadn't seen a thing since the fire. Her dark brown eyes were covered in a thick white gauze, held to herface with a bandage that wrapped around her head, concealing the damage.

"What is going to happen?" It was the only thing Kristen could think to ask her mother, as she held onto her hand for dear life. In all her childhood in the countryside of France, she had never experienced such fear in her life, such fear that she would never look out upon the ocean again, never watch another butterfly land so gracefully on a flower, some of the few things that comforted her when she was alone. Kristen was raised as the only child of Tanya and Edward Verlaine, luckily, neither one was killed in the fire that ravaged their house.

It was a warm summer night when the fire had broken loose. Somehow a candle holder was knocked over, and it managed to land in just the right place for the cutrains to catch fire.. The entire house went up in smoke, and poor Kristen was still sleeping.. Herbedroom was nearest to the family room, which was probably where the fire started. Now it was only a matter of time, time to see, or hear, what was to become of her. Her stomach twisted and turned, if her eyes were not so bound she would be crying.

"I don't know" her mother answered, in almost a whisper. It was all Tanya could do to keep from crying. She and Edward had been unharmed by the flame, but by the time they got Kristen out of the house, she was made unconscious by smoke inhalation, and the flesh around her eyes had been burned. The first weeks after the fire, it had been an extremely painful recovery process for her, every time the bandages were changed, every time she tried to open her eyes, the pain, the stinging and the burning that came from any sort of movement directed to that area would be almost too much for her to bare. Now that it was all over, there was only one thing left for her in this tedious process of recovery, and that was her eye site.

Kristen's heart stopped beating as the doctor, M. Perdoux, opened the door and stepped inside the room. This was the moment. When the doctor's in western France couldn't help her, she was rushed into Paris where perhaps the doctor's here could help her, and so far they didn't fail her.

"I hope you are in no pain" M. Perdoux said to Kristen, as he stood before her where she sat on the examining table. She could hardly bring herself to speak, she wanted to cry, she wanted to grab at something, anything, and break it. The frustration and anger and pain that had bottled up inside of her all week knowing that today was the day that the doctor's would remove the bandages for the final time was trying to release itself from her restraint, and it was almost succeeding.

"Just take them off" she said in an extremely suffering voice. She had grown to hate the doctors that had caused her so much physical pain in the last few months. It seemed to her that while she laidthere under their hands that they didn't care that she was screaming and crying, they just continued to touch the burns that had ravaged her eyes. Her words were full of tears, both the doctor, and Tanya had heard it, they knew she was under a great deal of pressure and pain. But that was all they seemed to know. They didn't really know why she was so nervous or afraid, yes, no one wanted to lose their eye site, but Kristen's eyes were her life. She wrote everything, she kept diaries and journals and wrote stories, her worlds of fantasy were sometimes the only thing she could confide in. How could she write anything if she could not see? her childhood was a lonely one, she never really fit in amongst the children in her village, and since her family was too poor to send her to a school, she was even more secluded from the other kids who could attend classes. In fact, the only reason she knew how to write was because her Father was raised with an education, and he taught her the basics of reading and writing.

Her mother often resented that her daughter felt so free to express her emotions among people, especially a doctor, who was only there to help her. Tanya looked up at M. Perdoux, and shook her head,

"Kristen, please, he is only trying to help" She told her daughter. Kristen frowned beneath her bandages,

"When my eyes reveal to me that I can no longer look upon another thing in this world, what goodwill help be to me then" she said coldly, darkly, the low trembling in her voice signifying that she was on the verge of long awaited tears of anger. The doctor shook his head to Tanya,

"It is quite alright, Madame" he said, "Kristen, turn your head to me, whatever happens now, you have to promise me you will not lash out, you have to promise me that whether you can see or not, you will not remove yourself from the bed you sit on, many things will depend on your ability to stay calm" he told her. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. "When I say, Kristen ... are you listening?" he asked her, she only nodded. "When I tell you to, I want you to slowly open your eyes, very slowly, lift your eyelids, and do not touch your eyes.." She nodded once more. This next step would present to her two doorways, she could imagine them both. The doorway into light, and the doorway into darkness. Her heart pounded as the doctor removed the bandages. There was no more pain, her physical condition was that of a recovery, her burns were healed and not infected.

The air around her seemed to tingle at her flesh as the bandages were removed, a sensation she only rarely felt. Her mother held back a gasp as the bandages were fully removed. The burns were limited, she was lucky. She was only scarred around the eyes, no where else, she was very lucky. Kristen frowned,

"What does it look like?" she asked nervously, her eyes still closed, the doctor not having yet allowed her to open them yet. She could only imagine it, the skin was gone, the bone of her very face sticking out, but she could almost feel the doctor's smile being faced to her,

"My child, you are one of the luckiest burn victim's I know" he said honestly to her. "You are hardly scarred" He took her hand and placed her index finger to the side of her left temple, "You are scarred here, but it can be well hidden by the lightest application of make-up, and here" he touched with her finger along the underside of her left eyebrow. "An lastly here" he put her finger to the skin just beneath thearea of her right eye, the side closest to her nose. "There is some redness but it will heal in time. You are still beautiful, Kristen" he told her, but his words did little to comfort her. As if the way her face looked really mattered to her. She could see herself feeling the hundreds of pages she had written on, no longer being able to read them and not daring to allow anyone to read them to her for fear they would criticize her work and her secrets. The moment had come, why had she even bothered to ask what it looked like? When she could have found out by nowif her eyes were working or not.

"Slowly, very slowly" the doctor instructed her, now sitting before her on the chair that normally sat at his desk. Her mother sat forward from where she was sitting already, anticipating, waiting impatiently to see whether her daughter would have her site or not. Kristen indeed began to open her eyelids, but what came next, would be the lowest blow that had ever been thrown at her in her entire life. "Can you see?" he asked her, "Anything? can you see light? outlines? anything?" His confidence was beginning to weaken when she did not speak. Now it was evident, her predictions were confirmed, she would never see, again. If she could have looked at the floor, she would.

Her head fell,"No" she replied, as if it were the last note of a song of death, the sound leaving all who heard it with a chill, and the feeling of death's consumption. She grasped the sheets around her so tightly that her knuckles turned painfully white, "I can't see" She said, it was all sinking in too fast, "I can't see anything" her breath picked up, she was hyperventilating, and she was trembling. She fell into a pit of fear, the darkness that she would see forever being all too clear to her now. "I CAN'T SEE!" she shrieked out, in terror, in such utter horror. She held her hands out, in hopes of feeling something. Her mother went to her immediately and gathered her closely,

"Shhhh, darling, it's going to be all right" she tried to comfort her daughter,

"NO IT WON'T! I CAN'T SEE!" She yelled once more, and began crying uncontrollably. Her sobs could be heard throughout the entire building. It was a dark doom, like someone so close to her had died and left her there in emptiness. These were the things that Mr. Perdoux, as a doctor, hated the most. When patients were brought down by the sad results of accidents and injuries. Kristen held to her mother, crying, clutching her back and sobbing. Everything beautiful in this world was gone from her. What was there for her now? nothing.

"What is going to happen?" she asked her mother, between her painful sobs. The doctor watched, and looked to Tanya,

"Perhaps she should not return to western France, not yet anyway. There are schools here in France that are able to help the blind."

"Help the blind to what?" Kristen lifted her head in rage, looking out into the blackness that consumed her eyes, "Be happy without their eyes?" she screamed.

"Braille" the doctor said to Tanya. AfterKristen had fallen asleep in the room provided by M. Perdoux's health care, Tanya had returned to him to find out what could be done. She knew her daughter loved to write.

"Braille?" she asked. M. Perdoux nodded,

"It's an alphabet for the blind, it's relatively new. It's a system ofbumps on a page, and the blind are able to read with their hands. There are also type writers for this system.. It won't be long before she can write again, Madam Verlaine, but she has to stay here in Paris, it is the only place in the country that can offer her a place to live while she learns it."

"I am very glad you know of such education, but how am I to pay for this? We are a poor family, Monsieur, it was a miracle that we could even afford to pay for the treatment for her burns." The doctor smiled,

"I have an old friend, who would perhaps not hate to take her in for a year or two, or possibly three, while she learns to read and write."

"You want me and Edward to just leave her here while she learns, and move away?" she asked bewildered. The doctor nodded,

"My friend can take in one person, but I doubt she has room for three. She will be well looked after, Madame Verlaine, and I think that perhaps a certain level of independence would be in her best interest. She is what...18, 19? years old? She will be living on her own someday soon anyway, she must learn how to get by without her parents." Kristen's mother listened with understanding.

"Who is this friend of yours, and where will my daughter be staying for this amount of time?" she asked, a bit concerned. She was afraid that the doctor would recommend some man or woman living in the slums of Paris.

"Her name is Antoinette Giry" said the doctor, "She is the ballet mistressof the well known "Opera Populaire'', that you've no doubt heard of before. There are many dancers that require their owndormitories there, she no doubt has a few rooms that are not being used right now. I know she will take Kristen in, she is such a kindhearted woman, andwith a daughter of her own, about Kristen's age, perhaps they will become friends. It would be good for her. And from what Antoinette tells me, there are always rehearsals during daytime hours, perhaps music would help Kristen get through the first period of her blindness, music can be a great comfort to those in pain."

**Ok, I would like to thank my reviewer for pointing out the spelling errors, the only reason I didn't spell check or proof read was because I was too worried with getting the story published onto this thing even think about going over it again :p. I'm sorry if the mistakes were inconvenient. I will post more chapters definitely, although I must warn my audience that I will be out of town for a few weeks, it is summer after all, many of our families drag us out of our little holes which we hide in to become consumed by our computers, to go on these little "vacations". I will set you up with as much of the story as possible... after that you will just have to wait for my return (Please review, please don't read and leave :-) )**


	2. Ignorant Fool

**Disclaimer:I still don't own any characters sighs it never gets any easier.**

**Authors note: Just to tell you all, where the opera house in concerned, we are at that part in the history of thePopulaire just before the whole finale with Christine, Erik, and Raoul, involving Don Juan. (Please review, I hold nothing dearest than the word of my reader(s)**

Ignorant Fool

Kristen awoke at her mother's gentle touch. Good, it was all just a dream, right? The moment she opened her eyes she realized where she was and remembered what had happened. Hell, it seemed, still consumed her. She reached for her mother in hopes of not falling over. She hadn't seen the room she slept in, in the doctor's office. It was at least 6 hours after she finally fell asleep.

"My darling Kristen" Her mother said warmly, "It's all going to be OK" she held her daughter close. Normally Kristen would have shunned such comfort, she was strong, right? She didn't need it, but right now, it seemed, that in this bottomless pit of darkness, her mother was all she had.  
"It won't be ok." Kristen said, "It won't be ok. I'll never write again, you know I cannot live without my writing. My pages were all I had to confide in and you know that." Her words were of more truth than any truth that could have ever been spoken. Kristen had relied on her diaries to vent out her sadness, her frustrations, and her pain, and now there was nothing. She could not very well tell her mother her deepest secrets, her desires and her hatred, every emotion and hidden thought that an adolescent girl thinks.

She squinted her eyes, tears begged to be released but she held closed her lids to stop them. Crying wouldn't fix anything, and in most cases it only made things worse. Inside, she felt cold, and lost. "When are we going home?" she asked her mother, her voice trembling. Her mother let her go, but Kristen could still feel her form sitting close to her, dipping in the mattress of the bed provided.

"Oh, Kristen, I don't think we are going back there." Her mother replied.  
Kristen, in immediate confusion and wonder, turned to her mother, starring once more into blind darkness.

"What do you mean we are not going home? We have no where else to go," Her mother nodded,

"Yes child, I know that. I should have said that you will not be returning there. Kristen, all hope is not lost for you. They have invented a writing system for the blind, it is called braille. She went on to explain to her frightened daughter just what this was. "There are type writers for that, my Kristen, you will still be able to read and write, they have books in braille as well."

Kristen was silent. Braille? she thought, yes, she had heard of it, but it never occurred to her that she would have to use it someday, therefore she never further looked into the strange form of writing. The thought of her sitting somewhere reading with her hands was almost enough to make her nauseous. She loved to see, but all she had left now, were memories.  
"How will I learn such a thing? We have hardly enough money for food, and where will I stay, if not in this horrid building? Our house is gone!...The house is gone" she suddenly remembered. "Where will I stay and where will you be, with me right? and what about my father?"

"Dr. Perdoux is taking care of everything Kristen, you must put your faith in him, be brave, all will turn out fine. Someday perhaps things will return to normal. Someday perhaps you will be married, maybe you will even publish something."

Marriage...Kristen thought. She snorted. She should have been married already! But small town life in France did no good to her where marriage was concerned. She was confined to the house doing chores and of course, writing, there was never time to venture out in search of a man.  
"Where am I to stay?" she asked.

"No, M. Perdoux, the lady cannot stay here" Madam Giry said in protest. Dr. Perdoux had known Antoinette Giry for almost a decade, they were old friends before any of the nonsense of the Opera Ghost had ever introduced itself into the public eye.

"I don't understand" he replied, confused "You have more than enough empty rooms around this old Opera house, I know you do. How can you be so selfish? The girl is only 18, she just lost her eye site, her house is gone, her family is poor, and she has no one else but her parents, and they no longer have the money to keep her. She is far too old now to be living with them any way. I am going to provide for her to learn to read and write again, I will even pay rent if you need it, but please, please allow her to live with you in the opera house." He pleaded.

Madame Giry shook her head, "It is far too complicated for you to understand" she said. "There are too many things happening in this building that cannot be explained, and it is not safe for someone like her, especially since she hasn't her eyesight."

"Oh, you're not referring to those foolish rumors are you? You cannot possibly tell me that you are keeping her from shelter because everyone thinks that the theater is haunted by this... Opera Ghost?" Dr. Perdoux turned his back to her, annoyed at this idiocy. This was impossible. She was such a loving woman, how could she turn the poor girl out? Madame Giry opened her mouth to speak, but the doctor silenced her,

"She has nothing left. She was in love with her ability to write, she can no longer write, she can no longer read, and soon she will have no parents. The only way she can learn is if she stays here, I cannot keep her at the hospital, too many sick people enter every day, she could catch something awful and die within months, the sanitary conditions of my practice are quite satisfactory, but I cannot let her stay there. She needs to know there is something left for her in this god forsaken world." He spoke fiercely, and quietly. He could not believe that a stupid story would sway Giry's judgment and heart.

Antoinette's thoughts debated with each other for what seemed like a lifetime before she finally turned to him and nodded,

"All right, doctor, if she is as desperate as you say, I will have a room made for her," She put a hand to her forehead, "But I will not be responsible for her, should anything bad happen!" She snapped, "This is your foolish idea, you are responsible for letting her live here, after all the... accidents that have been occurring. La Carlotta, Joseph Bouquet, Christine Daae, who next?" Madame Giry grew frightened. The Opera ghost had no hospitality where these people were concerned, and now someone was coming to live there whom didn't belong. Someone who had no business where performances were concerned. He would knock her off without a thought for invading his theater.

"Oh I thank you, I thank you" Said Perdoux, his voice just riddled with burdon lifted sighs, so obviously relieved by her change of heart. "She needs this more than you know. And perhaps you could allow her to attend some of the rehearsals, music may do her good, she still has her hearing." The doctor said, and paid Giry thanks once more before quitting the theater to retrieve Kristen.

Madame Giry was now flooded by unease. Perdoux had no idea what he was getting Kristen into, the dark truth of what she was warning him of did not even register with him. She could see it now, Erik, as if he did not already have disaster on his mind involving Mademoiselle Daae. The moment he learned of her arrival he would be planning her death from his shadowed dwellings.

**(It will get more exciting soon, I promise, I have a lot of chapters already, I just have to post them, they'll be up before tomorow, then sadly, I must depart on my journey to the cottage sighs no computer there, i'll be posting like mad tonight)**


	3. Discovery and Disgust

Discovery and Disgust

Dust. Was it dust she smelled? Since being consumed by frightening blindness, Kristen couldn't help but notice that everything around her seemed so much more clearer than it had before. Sounds were brighter, touches were softer, the air was either lighter, heavier, colder or warmer. All of her senses were improved, and it surprised her greatly.

She walked with her mother down the corridors of the opera house, she was to meet Madame Giry today, and depart from her mother. She was scared, of course, but not so scared. Now that she knew there was hope for her, she was able to breath without her heart pumping through her throat, and without her stomach constantly turning over in her abdomen. Learning Braille wouldn't be so bad, it would be better than nothing, wouldn't it? She put her hand out and allowed it to brush against the wall as she walked, feeling her way down the passage.

Madame Giry, on the other hand, was beaten down by her nervous state. Her daughter, Meg Giry, had questioned countless times the source of her mother's unease, but the woman refused to answer her inquisitive daughter. If Meg found out anything, the entire Opera house would know. She knew her daughter was quite fond of playing broken telephone with every piece of news she received, private or not.

"Right this way" Dr. Perdoux encouraged Kristen. He took her hand so that she would not have to feel her way, and he lead her through the passage.

"How long will I be staying here?" Kristen asked, she could not help but he curious. If she was going to be staying there, she wanted to know everything.

"As long as it takes you to learn how to live without your eyes" he said in a friendly tone, "Do not worry, most people adjust quite well to the loss of sight. You will be no different, I'm sure you'll do just fine" he said. It was his job to encourage her and keep her in high spirits, and Kristen knew it. She could almost smell the lies behind his voice. Suddenly she could picture herself rocking back and forth, lost in her own bedroom.

At the end of the passage, Madame Giry awaited them. She stood wearing her gray hair in it's usual tight bun, and one of her black dresses that she usually wore while instructing the ballet. Her smile was warm, she hid her worries well. It truly bothered her that the Phantom would come to know of her presence there, what would he do to her? If he found out she couldn't see, oh how he would toy with the poor girl. She warned Perdoux but he simply would not listen, and now she was faced with the very source of what could truly become the newest problem in her life.

"Antoinette Giry, this is Kristen Verlaine. Kristen, this is Madade Giry" Dr. Perdoux introduced the two. Kristen held out her hand expecting to shake hands with the ballet mistress. Giry's hand came forward and took hers in friendly terms,

"I welcome you to the Opera Populaire" Madame Giry said, "I'm sure you will feel quite at home here."

Kristen mentally searched the room for her mother, this was happening all too quickly and she could feel that familiar fear rising in the pit of her stomach.

"Mother?" she asked,

"I'm right here, Kristen, don't worry" She embraced her daughter, "You must be strong, I know this is not easy, but it is for your own good. Pretty soon you will be able to read and write, and find your way without assistance. This will be good for you, you are a grown woman now any way, it is high time you found your way in this world."

Kristen's eyes filled up with tears, "But mother -"

"No Kristen, it is time" she said, and hugged her daughter tighter, "I love you darling, but I have to go now." She said. Dr. Perdoux nodded, it certainly was time, Madame Giry would be wanting to take her into the Populaire under her own watch instead of under theirs. She let go of her daughter and Kristen reached out for her, when Madame Giry took her softly by the hand.

"Goodbye Mother" She said, the tears she tried to hide falling from her broken eyes, her voice shaky and trembling. It was like walking through an unfinished story, and she wished she could know what was going to happen.

"We'll see you soon Dr. Perdoux said, and Kristen heard his footsteps and her mother's footsteps exit down the hallway, and eventually the sound was gone. She took a deep breath, she was all alone now, all alone.

"Now, Kristen" Madame Giry was afraid to show the slightest bit of tension in her speech, so she spoke as warmly and friendly as she could, "I will show you around a little, but I don't expect it from you that you should be able to manage on your own. My daughter Meg will help you if you are in need."

Kristen didn't understand it. When had her life taken such a turn? When had she become such a helpless little pity, to be sympathized by everyone? She had no choice but to allow it, painfully and shamefully. How could her mother just leave her there like that? How could she just walk away from her daughter? In all honesty, she really questioned whether she would ever see her mother again, even though they said she would. She had to wonder... Would she?

"Come this way" Giry led Kristen by the hand, "I will first show you to your room, then I will introduce you to Meg, she is really a very nice girl, but you must be careful what you tell her, she spreads gossip like jam over toast"

What is this? What filth? What dishonor? A girl, is the woman out of her mind? Erik watched the entire scene in disgust from that unfriendly hidden balcony, that loomed over them in shadow. It was not surprising that no one had ever noticed it, the only lights in those passages were those of which came from either end.

Another fool to add to the collection of idiots around here, he thought, frowning through that porcelain white mask. No, he could not think of this now, there was still too much planning where young Christine was concerned. He scowled bitterly, that foolish boy Raoul was never going to get in the way if he could help it. He wanted to throw a rope around the lad's throat and be done with him for good.

He watched through sickened eyes as Madame Giry helped Kristen towards the light. The girl was in her own darkness, as it seemed, being lead only by an unfamiliar hand down a path of uncertainty. At least she was blind, he thought, she won't be able to curiously wander my corridors the way so many other mindless twits do. 


	4. Dreams Disturbed

**A/N:Ah, so our two characters finally encounter one another, please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters in it... oh but if only there was a way to go back and change Christine's mind about Erik, he is truly far more interesting than that pathetic... retarded... Raoul! (oh truly people, I really have nothing against Raoul, but I just love Erik more)**

"Oh it is going to be so lovely having you here with us, you'll be the center of attention" little Meg told Kristen as her mother left the two alone in Kristen's new bedroom. Meg had been slightly surprised at first seeing the burn scars on the young woman's face, but they were not all that bad, she could look past them. In some strange way, the mangled flesh that barely circled some parts of her eyes, perhaps enhanced her individuality, even made her more beautiful than what she would have been before the accident. She did not saying anything towards the marks, she only accompanied Kristen as she was introduced to her room.

It was a simple room, as many were, including a comfortable sized bed, which was a luxury compared to the fact that most of the young ballerina's had a bed only small enough for one, Kristen was gifted with a larger size. Madame Giry thought that perhaps the girl would need the extra space. She did not want the poor child to fall out if she could not see. There was a wardrobe, empty though, and a vanity with a looking glass and a few drawers.  
Kristen frowned, and kept silent. This girl was obviously a bit giddy for her age. She listened to the young ballerina blabber on about how wonderful her life at the Opera house was going to be, almost as if she didn't have a brain to invent the words she uttered. How was life going to be fine for her here? she wondered in sarcasm and she almost felt annoyed, but how could she show these feelings to the young girl who was obviously only saying these things to make her feel better. She could not be so rude to someone who would take the time to at least try and make her dark world brighter.

So she managed a smile, starring into space. She thought she must have looked like a complete idiot, she didn't know where Meg was to even look her in the eye, her ears told her that the girl was to her right, but did she know for sure? she was afraid to project her attention in any given direction for fear that the young girl would say no, over here Kristen.

"You are very kind" Kristen said, "I'm only too thankful to be allowed to stay here, if it were not for you I would have no place to go" she said. Meg smiled,

"Well, it is no trouble to us at all, we have a few vacant rooms it seems, and it will be nice to have someone to talk to who is not in the ballet, or who does not consider themselves competition. I'll make sure you know this place by heart, even if you cannot see, I'll make sure you can find your way through most of the place." Meg gasped, oh goodness, the girl did not seem in the least bit uneasy about the idea of wandering the place alone. She knew her mother was going to just kill her for telling Kristen of the mysterious happenings, but she could not let the girl live here confused about what everyone was whispering to each other.

"Kristen, has my mother mentioned anything... unusual, to you, about this place?" Meg asked, her voice in little more than a whisper, her footsteps even grew soft as she moved to sit on the bed beside Kristen.

"Mysterious happenings?" she asked in confusion. It was already a mysterious happening that all of this was happening, and she had yet to kill her ignorance about whatever young Meg could possibly mean.

"Yes, those in relation to the Opera Ghost" Meg said,

"The Opera Ghost?" Kristen felt a smirk of humor working it's way to her lips. "Are you trying to tell me that the theater is haunted? How can you joke at a time like this? And I've never believed in ghosts, What is real is what I can touch with my own hand, it's always been that way for me" she said, trying to sound as friendly as she could, despite her fear, humorous doubts, and wonder.

"Oh, no, no, no, Kristen, this is no joke. We hear him, he walks behind the walls, he walks among us, we hear his voice. He says things, oh Joseph gave the most fearsome description of him. Two eyes so sunken in that he could very well pass as a skeleton. He has no nose Kristen! and he wears a mask, a fearful white mask, one of the girls said she's seen it! My mother knows more about him than anyone, I know she does, but she refuses to speak about it. Whenever something has happened, something bad, like what happened to Carlotta, she's always there, calm as could be, and she gives the managers messages from the Opera Ghost! She won't say a word. Kristen, you must promise me that you will not tell her what I've just told you now" Little Meg's eyes grew troubled at the thought of her mother finding out that she had just exposed the dark secrets of the Populaire to a girl who had just arrived.

Kristen listened, half believing that this young girl was harebrained, or that she was simply a believer of folklore, but she guessed the least she could do for her newest and probably only friend, was agree and ease her nerves the slightest bit, "All right, my friend, I will tell no one, least of all your mother" she said,

"Don't worry about everyone else, they already know. Everyone knows about the Phantom of the Opera! Everyone knows how he watches the performances from box five, he makes sure the managers give him box five, every single night! and though he is there, we never see him! I also heard they give him payments of 20,000 francs a month, can you believe it! whoever the ghost is, he is rich by now, I can't imagine why a ghost would need that much money!"

Kristen was astounded by the level of sincerity in the girl's tone. She obviously believed in this fairy tale, and she certainly spoke in a forewarning voice. "Well, perhaps the ghost is not a ghost, Meg, maybe it is one of your fellow performers playing a silly joke on everyone. Some people become very tickled upon making others cower in fear, or grow mad with rage." Meg's little eyes grew wide with alarm,

"No Kristen." She sighed, "I suppose there is no use in trying to convince you. But you will learn soon enough that he is real, and that it is not just one big practical joke. In fact, that is what Armand and Firmin thought when they first caught wind of the Opera ghost. They thought Poligny and Debienne were playing a splendid little joke on them, but when the letters kept coming, they learned otherwise. When the set fell on La Carlotta, they learned differently, and when Buquet was found hanging within the theater one day, they knew it was not simply a joke. But they are still angered, they still refuse to oblige the Phantom's commands." Little Meg laughed, "It was pretty funny though, when the set fell on that stuck-up singer's head, everyone hates her, she's so filthy rotten and mean to everyone. She thinks she's better than us all. But oh if you could have heard Christine sing that night! She made everyone forget about Carlotta the moment her lovely voice rang through the auditorium."

"Maybe I could hear her sing some time" Kristen said, her eyes were closed, she thought it better to keep them shut. She had never considered music to be a substitute for the things she loved most in this world, but it would almost be like having a story told to her without even having to open her eyes to read a page. And though Opera would never fill her heart the way pages had done in the past, it would be an improvement to the empty life she was living now.

"Maybe, If my mother consents" Meg answered, then placed a hand on Kristen's shoulder before walking towards the door, "It was lovely to speak with you Kristen" Meg said, "I have to go to the performance now, I'll be back soon I hope." The young dancer opened the door, "I'll see you soon Kristen" she said, then left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm all alone now" Kristen said to herself in a dark, said whisper, laying back on her bed, her eyes had remained closed. She knew this time would come, and she wasn't entirely prepared for it. She was so frightened, but on the other hand, she was rather humored by the insane anecdote little Meg had revealed to her upon her small visit. She laughed to herself, probably the first time a real smile spread across her lips,

"An Opera Ghost," she laughed to herself, "The Phantom of the Opera" she laughed some more. If I had my eyes I would write a story about him, this Phantom. She thought. The idea momentarily came to her that she should perhaps ask for a paper and a quill pen, and some ink. She couldn't see but perhaps she could still write words, even if they were horrendously sloppy, she figured if she pressed the pen to the page hard enough, she might be able to feel what she had written when the ink dried. Foolish, she thought, completely foolish. They are going to teach you Braille, That will be your writing.

She sighed. There was nothing to do. She was bored. She could faintly hear the singing of La Carlotta from somewhere beyond her door. She swung her legs over the bed and stood. She would learn her bedroom by heart if she tripped over everything she came into contact with. This determination was born from her trademark intractability. Nothing ever got in her way. Ever.

She held her hand down to the side of her bed and trailed it along until she reached the end, she walked out into the center of the room blindly, holding her hands out until she reached the wall. It seemed like forever before she realized where everything was. She had no way of knowing what time it was, but it had certainly been a few hours since she'd started this adventure of resolution.

Did I not instruct, that box five, was to remain empty?

Kristen jumped, her heart momentarily skipping a beat. What had she just heard? Never had she heard a voice like that, so loud, it filled every corner of the building, it traveled through the hallway. A voice so deep, so taxing. It was smooth as silk yet, it displayed a hint of something she couldn't put her finger on. It was so very deep, and in her unending darkness, she also heard the frightful shrieks of spectators, who were obviously attending this Opera. So perhaps these strange happenings, which Meg had referred to, really were taking place.

She sat at the vanity and just listened to the beautiful composition of Il Muto, she thought she heard something weird, La Carlotta had slipped up? She sounded just like a toad! Kristen mused. This was the woman who considered herself on a higher level than all else? Well she certainly deserved this payment of humiliation.

She listened as the entire building went quiet. Things were not so scary for her now, now that she could find her way to her window, to her bed, to the wardrobe and the vanity, and the door, without any effort at all. She had been able to hear everything, and she wondered if she would be able to hear the music without being blind. As she had noticed before, her other senses were gradually improving since her misfortune.

The role of the countess will be played by Christine Daae.

And she heard the crowds cheer. What one earth had happened? and whose voice was that which almost made her smile? It was beautiful. She wondered if it was part of the Opera itself. She had never seen a production, and never heard of Il Muto, so she wouldn't know the story line. But by the sounds of the screeching audience, it had nothing to do with the intended plot line. She would have to wait until Meg came back to her to find out what happened. The little ballerina seemed so keen on telling stories that should not be told, perhaps she would explain everything in appeasing detail.

She made her way back to her bed now, not even needing her hands to guide her as she plopped back down onto the comfortable fabric. She wanted so badly to attend a performance. She could hear Christine Daae now, the lovely young singer, in the role of the countess. Meg had not been lying about one thing, Daae had a gorgeous voice,

"Almost like an Angel" Kristen whispered to herself, yawned, and prepared her troubled mind to sleep.

Almost like an Angel indeed, Erik thought to himself, watching little mademoiselle Verlaine from a vent in the ceiling. Those rotten managers, he thought, making Carlotta the star once more, completely discarding his wishes and ignoring his threats. They deserved that mischance, now Christine was singing, and he so regretted having to miss her performance, but there was a nastier little toad he had to deal with right now, this little pest sleeping in a bed that should have been reserved for better than the likes of her.

Kristen shifted in her sleep, she was on the verge of waking before a deeper sleep claimed her, dreams monopolizing her mind. Her eyes moved within their lids, she was seeing something in her imagination, whatever it was, he didn't care.

Leave this place.  
Kristen awoke immediately to this sound, she could almost feel the warmth of a breath on her skin. She sat up instantly and listened around the room for the dreadful thing that had awaken her from the first time she had ever seen something since the fire.

"Who the bloody hell is here with me" She growled, clutching at the sheets and throwing them aside, "Who dares wake me!" she cried out. "Do you know what you've done?" The dream she was dreaming had been so pleasant, so real. Glass, it was glass she dreamed of, glass of many different colors. Mostly red, but there had been green and blue as well. It was the stained glass of the church she used to frequent as a child, every Sunday morning. She held her father's hand, walking between him and her mother, giggling happily. Church was the only place she got to hear music besides the festival that came to town twice a year. She had loved singing in the choir when she was a young child, it was one of the only social functions she was able to attend. She had a rather nice range for a child. But now, awake and in the dark, faced by a strange voice, no louder than a whisper.

"WHO ARE YOU!" She blared, "PRESENT YOURSELF!"

The woman was mad, Erik thought. He had never seen a lady start in such a way. Sleeping so peacefully, and she really had been sleeping serenely, then burst out in a fit of fiery rage, before she knew to whom she was speaking. She was foolish, but he remained in shadow, refusing to oblige her command. He would not show himself to the likes of her. He simply wanted to be rid of her before she got too involved with the Opera. And the last thing he needed was Christine to become friends with yet another little theater roach. She didn't need more persuasion. His Angel of music would be his forever, in less time than a week. With a swish of his cape, he was gone.

Kristen frowned. She heard that cape, she heard the fabric move so gracefully, and the footsteps that followed behind them. She was being watched, and she knew it.

**Ok, I'm gonna thank anyone who read this far into my story, you're great! please let me know whether you like it so far or not, any comments are good comments, every little bit helps.**


	5. Senses Enhanced and A Promise

**A/N: I know, it's moving along pretty slow where E/OW are concerned, but it will happen, mark my words and never forget them! Go easy on me, this is my first fanfic.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Phantom & Characters, sighs... if only.**

Senses Enhanced/A Promise

"Kristen, Kristen! Wake up!" Meg shook her new friend by the shoulder. Kristen snapped up at her, "I told you for the last time! Leave me Alo...Meg?" she asked, she calmed down significantly when she realized that her visitor this morning was not the annoying presence that had ruined her dreams the previous night. Meg's eyes widened,

"Woah!" she said, "Kristen, are you quite all right?" she asked, putting a soft and gentle hand to the blind girl's forehead.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry Meg, my dear" Kristen said, "I thought you were..." She fell silent.

"You thought I was?" Meg asked

"No one" she replied, "It isn't important. What is so urgent that you must wake me so abruptly?"

"Oh Kristen, it was horrible. We were performing, it was Il Muto, Carlotta was singing! And she was doing quite a nice job with her voice, until something so unpredictable happened! She..."

"Her voice cracked?" Kristen asked. Meg looked at her in disarray,

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I heard her. I heard everything Meg. Ever since I lost my eyes, I can hear everything ten times better. You can almost say that I can sense people walking towards my door down the hallway before I even hear their footsteps. Oh it is so strange Meg, but yes, I heard everything."

"It was him, it was the Opera Ghost! He interrupted our performance, he scared the entire audience and he made the managers cast Christine as the Countess! Oh Kristen, he will not stop haunting us! I'm so frightened!"

Kristen frowned, "Meg, I don't think there is a ghost within these..." Walls, she thought. She suddenly remembered once more the disturbing existence of those eyes she could feel watching her, the voice she heard whisper to her, and the fabric and the footsteps. She fell silent, and didn't speak. Meg watched her with suspicion, despite her fear,

"Kristen, you awoke quite alarmed and actually, very startled when I came to you just a few minutes ago. Who were you talking to when you told who ever you thought it was to leave you alone?"

Kristen frowned, in silence. "There was someone there" she said quietly. "Last night, when I was alone, or when I thought I was alone. Oh Meg, I've learned my way around this room, I've learned to find the wardrobe and the vanity, and the window, I am no longer scared of what I can no longer see" she said. "I was sleeping. I was having the most wonderful dreams. In my dreams, I could see. I could see and I could hear the church of my childhood, in the French countryside. But then it was gone, it was all gone. I heard someone Meg, he told me to "Leave this place." She imitated the voice as best she could. "He destroyed my lovely visions, it was the first time I had ever seen anything since the fire. I had not had a dream since the night I could no longer see."

Meg grew worried. "Where did the voice come from?" she asked. Kristen fell to a peaceful and somewhat curious thought,

"This will sound so peculiar." She said, "I could swear I heard him in the ceiling! Then I yelled at him." she giggled slightly, "I yelled at him, and he went away, I even heard him leaving! if he had a cape or a cloak I think I heard it move before I heard the footsteps grow quieter and quieter before they were gone completely, like the day I heard my mother's footsteps growing distant." The memory of her mother's departure would be a source of tears for her in many future situations of memory.

"The ceiling?" Meg knew this was not good. She spoke of the very Phantom himself, appearing out of no where, spying, prying, whispering, watching. It was exactly like the tales.

"Kristen, you don't think you've been visited by the phantom?" she asked. Kristen pondered this possibility, the frivolous possibility that the ghost might be real.

"Well, Meg, if you are asking me whether I believe he was the ghost or not, I must say no. Ghosts, if they exist, do not have footsteps, they don't have clothes, and they don't breathe" she said. "Last night I heard him moving, and I could almost feel his breath on my face. If there is a soul torturing the living in this building, it is the soul of a man, and he is very much alive."

The two girls spent the rest of the morning talking, before Meg finally could take it no longer and told Kristen that she was going off to yet another rehearsal. Of course that was a lie. She had to find her mother and she could waste no time.

Madade Giry was sipping tea in her little dining room when her daughter burst through the door, "Oh Maman" she said, her eyes were red, she was holding back tears. Antoinette turned around in a bundle of surprise.

"Meg, was has gotten into you. You don't just storm in here like that, I've warned you against barging in before you are welcome, what if I had had company?" she asked. Meg nodded, and inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. She was now both nervous of the news Kristen had given her, and her mother's disciplinary nature.

"Mother" she restarted. "I think the Phantom is bothering Kristen." she said, letting the words just come out, there was really no better way to explain what she had on her mind. The elder woman's hands trembled slightly, not in inability to control the cup she held, but anyone could match that gesture to the anger and then sudden concern in her soft eyes. She set down her cup immediately, and looked to her daughter.

"Meg, why do you think this?" she asked simply.

"Because she told me herself just now" Meg said, "She said that last night she was awoken by a voice that told her to leave this place. She said it couldn't possibly be the ghost, because she heard his cape and his breath and his footsteps, but still Maman, she said she heard it coming from the ceiling. I had to tell you, I had to. What if she is being watched by the phantom? how do we save her from him? he has already killed, what if he kills her? oh I would just die if something happened to her, I would just die!" Meg said, a quivering hand to her brow. In the few days that she had known Kristen, she had truly grown considerably fond of her.

"Calm yourself!" Antoinette scolded. "She said these things?"

"Yes Mother" she replied. Madame Giry nodded,

"Thank you Meg" she said, "I will speak to Kristen. Now go, eat some breakfast with the other dancers. I will be there shortly. I have a few things to attend to first." she said, then dismissed her daughter.

When Meg had left, Giry shook her head in disbelief and placed an ailing hand to her brow. Oh Erik, She thought Why Kristen? Why her? she is so innocent, so frightened, blind!  
She arose immediately from her seat, and followed her best judgment, straight down the stairs to the chapel, and into the darkness. Down that path into darkness deep as hell.

And into darkness, he fell. "Oh Christine" he whispered. Tears had fallen that would never dry. The arrival of that little blind brat was gone from his memory. The only thing he could think of, was Christine, on that rooftop, professing her love to that impudent boy.

"I gave you music!" he roared, pounding a fist to the elegant cherry wood table before him. The table that had been the resting place of the now empty bottle of red wine, the vile liquid that had twisted his thoughts, disoriented his steps. Anything to take the pain away, the heartbreak, and eternal sadness. Christine, in the arms of that disgusting fowl man. The man with his perfect face. Erik took the mask from his visage, and looked at his ugly reflection in the mirror that stood beyond his reach.

She runs from you for this.

He could not dispel the voices that constantly tortured him.

She runs to him from this

He fell back into a chair of red satin, and tried to imagine all the ways he would mangle that foul Raoul when he finally got his hands on him. And I will, he thought, I will kill him, someday, soon.  
He was a mess. No longer did he wear that arrangement of formal attire, he was simply dressed in that white blouse, unbuttoned, exposing most of his chest, and black trousers. He had torn the heavy outer wear off the moment he reached the confinement of his eternal prison, and he thought.  
He knew that if Raoul had not shown himself to her the night before their meeting, she would have been his, or close to it. She would not have been swayed by her idiotic childhood sweetheart.

Christine. The name burned a hole in his chest every time he thought it, every time he heard her name in his mind. There was no way to extinguish the perceptions of his torment. He staggered from the chair, barely able to hold himself up, the liquor and the heartache playing a terrible game with his mind. He forced himself to his organ. He sat at the bench, and ran his graceful fingers along the ivory keys of the instrument. Music, he needed music almost as much as he needed his Christine. If music could reject him, it would, and he would have nothing. He was lucky music was at the mercy of it's creator. His fingers came down hard on the keys, creating the most haunting sounds the room had in all likelihood every heard. He did not know what he was playing, only that it reflected the pain in his heart, and the anger that was growing. If he was sober, he should have written it down, for certainly it would have become a masterpiece.

All color fled Madame Giry's complexion as she walked through that last tunnel. He was playing, and she could hear him. Whatever had happened to him recently, it must have been terrible, for him to compose a work of such agony and pain. In all the years he haunted the Populaire, she was still the only person who knew he was down there, well, in this case, now Christine knew too. But Christine did not know of this entrance, the pathway from the Rue Scribe. She opened the mirror and stepped into Erik's lair, his music now pouring from every corner of the dungeon. The moment her foot touched the cold hard floor, the music stopped, and Erik stood, enraged that he would be intruded upon.

"To what do I owe the pleasure" he growled in sarcasm between clenched teeth, the candles on the organ that were lit had become pools of wax, and were slowly dimming out, as were the candles lit around his dwellings. He was too drunk, or too miserable to notice.

"I am here about Kristen" Madame Giry said, and suddenly she realized how similar that name was to Christine.

"Who?" Erik clamored. Madame Giry grew a little nervous at his state. He was obviously under the influence, and men like him who were not capable of thinking straight were very dangerous.

"The blind girl" She answered as calmly as she could, "The one who is staying with us as of yesterday. You have been watching her" She lowered her gaze at him, accusingly.

"That girl doesn't belong here, there are enough problems living here as it is, the last thing I need is another person to ruin my plans"

"And what plans are those?" she interrogated, growing rather displeased with what she was hearing. She knew he was mapping out some horrid fate for Christine, but it did not have to involve Kristen.

"Go away Antoinette" he said, his fists clenching together tightly, even drunk, he would not lay a hand on Madame Giry, he was too far in her debt, and she was his only friend, excluding the Daroga.

"I will not, Erik" Madame Giry countered. "The poor girl is blind, she is frightened, terrified and alone. You of all people should know what that is like. She has no one. Her parents have left her for the doctors and the schools, and I doubt she will hear from them in short time. Have you no pity yourself? that you would not allow just one more child of darkness to live within these walls?"

"Don't you dare speak of darkness to me" he hissed, his eyes growing dark. His memories were like no one else's in the world. She could not begin to comprehend. Still she refused to let up.

"No, perhaps you cannot speak to me of darkness, but you cannot say that Kristen does not deserve to be here. She deserves help, Erik. She can no longer see, she is in darkness forever now, you have your candles and your music. She was a writer and now she has nothing! She has no candles to brighten her emptiness. What if you could no longer play or compose music, Erik? What if you could no longer see to cast your fingers to the keys? where would you be? Wouldn't you want someone to help you?"

Erik fell silent. It seemed these words were worse for the ware where liquor was concerned. He could hear her clearly. What she described was the very picture of doom, and perhaps she was on some level, correct. Him, without music? hadn't he just pondered that a moment ago before this stubborn little thing crawled in to invade his privacy? The girl was a writer?

"Leave me alone" he said, walking to the mirror she had come from, and held it open for her, "Get out of here."

"Not until you promise me you will not harm Kristen Verlaine! Not until you promise me that you will leave her out of whatever you are concocting on your own. She has many problems already, do not give her one more."

He snarled. Not harm that little brat? It was not as if she was the nicest girl on earth, he could remember being yelled at. Madame Giry was not going to give up, and it seemed that if he did not oblige her commands, she would be there forever, when all he wanted right now, was to be alone. He came to the conclusion that this was the only way, so he decided to give in, if only momentarily, to her commands.

"Fine" Erik finally answered, in a dark and final tone, "I will not harm the girl, satisfied now? I promise." Madame Giry watched him,

"I know you Erik, something is telling me that you say things now that you will not abide by in the future. I know you will watch her, she is a curious little creature, even I find myself wondering about her sometimes. If you are going to watch her, watch over her, don't spy or follow. Maybe you could protect her the way you protect young Christine Daae" she said, and watched his unmasked eyes grow wide with fury upon the statement. She was probably the only one who could look at his face without recoiling. Now was not the time to make judgements of appearance. She had come for one purpose, and she was now content with her small victory.

"Doubtful" he said, as he held the mirror frame open to her further, and she indeed took leave of the burdoned lair.

He closed the mirror to her, leaving her to get out alone. When he was sure she was gone, he returned to the organ. Without my music?

He played a few notes of beauty

Without Song?

Now what he composed was something different, something strange to him. No anger, just sadness, and Madame Giry could hear the last notes of this as she left the halls below. It almost brought a smile to her face, had she really struck a nerve with him?

**Oh I hate making Erik miserable... Throws ropes around my own neck I'll save him the effort.**


	6. Don Juan Triumphant

**A/N:Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you're all wonderful!**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the phantom of the Opera, especially Erik! But I don't.**

Don Juan Triumphant

"I've told Maman about what you said" Meg told Kristen as the two sat together eating their supper. She really enjoyed being with the girl. Her room felt so safe from the chaos that had encircled the Populaire over the past months.

"What did she say?" Kristen asked, taking a bite from the bread. It was still a challenge for her to find her food, but it wasn't so hard. She devised for herself a plan. She would just ask Meg what was north south east and west on her plate and she had no trouble remembering it. The girl had always had a brilliant memory to begin with.

"She didn't say much of anything" Meg recalled, "Only that she would be down to rehearsals soon and that I was to go and wait for her." Kristen frowned,

"So she does think you're mad" she laughed somewhat.

"Oh Kristen, this isn't funny, you don't realize the full extent of the seriousness of this situation, do you!"

"I guess not" Kristen said, "But then who...wait"

"what is it?" Meg asked curiously,

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Kristen stood from the bed, and moved to the center of the room, "It's almost like, music" she said. Her blind eyes opened, but she quickly shut them again. There was nothing to see, she had to keep reminding herself of that.

"I don't hear anything" Meg said.

"No? hmph, that's so weird, I could almost swear..." Meg watched completely confounded as Kristen kneeled to the floor and placed her ear to the wooden board. "I can hear it Meg, come listen with me, there's music"

Meg didn't want to, but she agreed to anyway, because she couldn't say no to this poor girl. She was either mad, or mistaken. She placed her ear to the board as well, and listened as carefully as she could, "Kristen, I cannot hear anything" she said, sitting up on her knees.

"It's so sad" Kristen said. "It's so, so sad." she sat up, and her brows nit into a concerned frown, "I've never heard music so dispirited." She fell silent once more, and replaced her ear to the floor, unable to stop listening. Meg watched her with pity.

"Oh Kristen" she said, "I'm so sorry that this is happening"

"That what is happening?" Kristen asked.

"All of this. You come here because of your eyesight, only to find that we are also in hard days as well..."

"Don't worry yourself over that, I'm perfectly fine now. I'll get by, don't worry. I'm the one who should be concerned, not you." Kristen smiled, she could still hear the song, it was lovely, yet so so sad. "This is an opera house, after all, perhaps the sound is coming from a piano, or an organ, far off from these walls.

"Yes but...perhaps you're right" Meg said, figuring she wouldn't want to scare the poor girl. The only music to come from any direction would have been from the orchestra's pit. Not straight down. But perhaps the Phantom had an organ somewhere in his labyrinth, and perhaps she was hearing him now. Still she couldn't believe in the Opera Ghost, Meg was amazed at her courage. She was not naive, in the least. She was not a child at all, she had a head on her shoulders, a strong one, and she followed her heart and mind without swaying.

Kristen stood and moved back to her bed and continued to polish off the rest of her dinner.

"I'm impressed at the way you've managed to find your way in such short time" Meg complimented,

"Well, thank you" Kristen said, setting the plate on the night stand. "It was really not that hard, and I was left alone pretty much all day yesterday, there was simply nothing else to do" The two girls smiled, and continued talking of things more pleasant than ghosts, woeful music, and blindness.

"Oh Kristen, it must have been awful for you to be stuck in here all the time. Perhaps I could take you somewhere besides this room, at least only for a little while" she said,

"Where would we go?" Kristen asked.

"Perhaps to the stage, to the main theater. Come on! lets go! All the dancers are in for the night, rehearsals are over and it should be vacant." Kristen's broken eyes seemed to light up at the prospect of leaving the room she was confined to.

"Ok! Let's go" she said excitedly. Meg took Kristen's hand and led her out of the room, and down the hallway. The new air seemed to brush Kristen's face softly as they walked. After a few moments,

"We're almost there" Meg said. Kristen frowned,

"I thought you said it was going to be vacant. I hear people." She stated calmly

"But...no, there should be no one" She opened the door to reveal that Kristen had been right. There were people in the theater. Stage hands, creating the sets for the latest Opera.

"Wow, Kristen, you're ears are brilliant!" Meg stated enthusiastically. Kristen found herself smiling at this notion.

"What are they doing?" she asked,

"Oh...um, they're building a set. It's red, and orange. Oh this must be for Don Juan Triumphant!"

"Don Juan what?" Kristen asked.

"Oh" The girls tone grew to a concerned level. "Remember everything I told you about...you know who? well, he wrote an opera and he's making them perform it. That's all I know, that's all Maman will tell me"

Kristen listened to the men building the set, "Meg" she began, her voice at a volume of worry, yet it possessed courage and hope. "Do you think I could come to this Opera?" she asked. Since arriving, music had been the only sound she heard other than Meg's, and that strange presence's, voice, and she was growing fond of it, quite quickly.

"I shouldn't see why not, but it could be dangerous Kristen. They've ordered the police to attend just in case the phantom tries to pull more of his tricks. Something could go wrong"

"But things can always go wrong, please let me come! I'd love to see this opera. Especially since, as you say, it was written by a ghost" she laughed thoughtfully, "It sounds delightful"  
The room fell silent. The workers suddenly noticed the presence of the two girls standing there.

"Hey, what are you doing here? Go away!" One called.

Kristen suddenly snapped around and starred into darkness, into a direction she didn't know where she was looking. Meg's eyes widened in fear.

"Did you hear that?" Kristen asked.

"No, I didn't hear anything, but you're looking at Box. 5. Kristen, it's his box. He must be here, you must have heard him. Quickly, lets go before we anger him" Meg dragged Kristen from the auditorium and back through the hallways before the blind girl could protest.

That's right, run, run from the man you can't see. Erik was most definitely watching from his "Box 5." He had to make sure the builders were doing an acceptable job at creating just the right atmosphere for his production. If not, he had planned to somehow destroy it and make them start all over again, but it seemed that his instructions on set design were all but vague to these fools.

"But Meg, why are you so frightened?" Kristen asked, "I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation behind your Phantom" she said.

"SHHH!" Meg hushed, "Don't say that name in these halls, or mention him at all. He hears everything!" she whispered. Kristen shook her head. This was ridiculous.

"You know, if I ever get to meet this Phantom, I should like to congratulate him on his ability to terrify you people so."

"You don't want to meet him, trust me, people who come in contact with him usually don't live to tell the tale. Why, I'm surprised Christine..." Meg slapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to come out with such a secret, but she was not capable of holding in confidential information when she was caught in one of her fits of rambling.

"Christine?" Kristen asked, "Do you mean Christine Daae?"

Meg brought her back into her room and she shut the door, "Oh Kristen you must promise me not to tell anyone I told you" she said. Kristen nodded in accord. She sat while Meg explained the entire story of Christine, and the Angel of music, and everything Christine had said to her regarding her trip to the labyrinth. Upon the end of the tale, Kristen nodded.

"You see... he is a real man!"

"But you don't get it, real or not, he still murders, he still kills!"

"That must have been the music I heard coming from the floor. It must have been him!" Kristen slightly smiled, "He is very talented" Meg's eyes grew wide with horror,

"Kristen you don't know what you are saying!" she bellowed, "He is a mad man, you must not become fascinated. You must stay as far away from the basements and box five as you can."

"Relax Meg, it isn't like I'm going anywhere" Kristen said, silently laughing.

The next few days were very hard to get through. The entire theater was on it's toes preparing for Don Juan, and she was angered that Meg did not visit her as much. She grew gruesomely bored, all she could do was listen to the rehearsals, and to the hauntingly beautiful music coming from the floor. On more than one occasions she found herself bottom up, ears pressed to the floor. She hissed to herself, it must have been him who woke her from her lovely slumber. Summarily she wanted revenge. Then almost as soon as she felt the need to send out karma, she felt so silly. It was only a dream, there will be many more, she thought. At least she hoped there would be more.

"Are you ready Kristen?" Madame Giry asked, coming through the door. Kristen sat on the bed wearing a beautiful red gown that Antoinette had acquired for her. It wasn't easy, but she dressed herself in it anyway. It was a deep red, perhaps crimson, and it fit her perfectly, it wasn't too loose, it hugged her figure just right. Her hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, which were now exposed. She may have been able to dress herself, but her hair was another matter. Perhaps she would leave it down, it wasn't like anyone would be seeing her when they could feast their eyes upon the lovely Ms. Daae.

"I am" She answered, ready to go see her first ever Opera. She was so excited when Madame Giry gave her approval upon seeing "Don Juan Triumphant", She couldn't wait to hear Daae sing.

"You look lovely" the ballet mistress said, with not an ounce of ease in her voice. She knew something was going to happen, something terrible. They were planning to arrest Erik this night, and on top of it all, they were using Christine as bait! Christine who had not been herself for several months, Madame Giry worried so much that she wouldn't even introduce her to Kristen, for fear it would link her newest guest to the phantom even more.

"Thank you" Kristen said, standing from her seat. Her subdued eyes grew sad. She could not say the same for her guardian , even if she wanted to.

"What's wrong Kristen? Are you having second thoughts about going?" she asked concerned.

"Of course not, Madame. I only wish I could see you..."

"Don't worry, I am not wearing anything special, I am simply here to make sure the ballerina's don't fall and make fools of themselves" she said, trying to comfort her with words of humor. What Madame Giry could not understand though, was that everyone who lived or worked in the Populaire was uneasy that night, even herself. Kristen was the only one who knew of the Phantom, and who didn't seem to care, or mind.

The police were stationed in every box, and in every corner of the theater. Madame Giry brought Kristen into the audience. She made sure before hand that she had saved for her the best seat. She looked at it as an award for her, for being so brave. Not many could learn to laugh and smile only weeks after they learn they will never see again, but Kristen was different. She sat beside her, never letting go of her hand. It was important that Kristen knew where she was at all times if at any time she would be in need of something. But Kristen was not the only thing on her mind. As she sat before the fiery red curtain that concealed the set, her heart throbbed fiercely. Somewhere behind that mass of curtain was poor frightened Christine Daae, probably begging Raoul one last time to call the whole thing off.

The audience quieted, the curtains were raised, and the song began. It was a strange music to Kristen's ears. She had never heard such... uniqueness. It was far different from the music she used to hear at church. Rarely had she heard violin's screech like that, and never had she heard words ring with such, splendid evil. It was dark, and it seemed to consume her soul on a strange level of passion. She heard from behind her some muttered comments about "Completely despicable," or "Well! I never!" What ever was going on, on that stage, it must have matched the music. Kristen imagined it was something of a sinful nature, if the phantom had written this, where had he been inspired?

And then, after the climax of the first order of music, and passed the story of one man disguising himself as another, all went silent, and all attentions went to the lovely Ms. Daae, who sang clearer than a bell.

No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy!

No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love!

And from behind she heard someone whisper the name Christine, and she knew then definitely that it was her. The music was like none she had ever heard before, but the words were also of an alien nature to her. All talk of passing a point of no return. She tried to concentrate on the story line, but she could not see what was going on. The words were vague. Indeed, to the person who could watch the opera, they would have made complete sense, but Kristen couldn't figure out whether they were in each other's arms singing the words, held apart by opposing companies, or simply moving towards each other. The words were passionate, and sexual, Kristen almost envied the female singer, while she recognized the male. That whisper! he had whispered during this song on several occasions, it was the same blasted whisper that had awoken her from sleep. But his voice was so sating, so mesmerizing, and in a word, seductive.

When will the blood begin to race?

The sleeping bud burst into bloom?

When will the flames at last, consume us?

Oh she had never heard such words, such music, such genius. She wished she could reach out for it, it moved her spirit, it made her almost want to write down these feelings. Tears of realization suddenly came to her broken eyes. If she could have seen the opera she would have written about it definitely, but how could she? She could not see to write, and even if she could, she had not one journal left. All of her diaries really were probably destroyed in the fire, as well as her eyesight.

Past the point of no return

The final Threshold

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn,

We've passed the point of no return.

The music hushed, she could have sworn the song was over, but then she heard the same male voice, singing out some different words of a completely different tone, and she found herself frowning. Where was this coming from, certainly it was not part of the song! It didn't fit in with the sensual nature of the piece... She forced herself to stop criticizing, it was still beautiful, and the man who sang it, was wonderful.

Say you'll share with me one love, on lifetime

Lead me, save me from my solitude

Say you'll want me with you here, beside you

Anywhere you go let me go to,

Christine, that's all I ask of...

Christine? Kristen thought as soon as the name was sung. She could have sworn the woman's name was supposed to be Aminta. She realized that as soon as his sentence was cut short and the audience began to shriek in horror, that something indeed, had gone terribly wrong. What were they screaming about? She reached for Madame Giry, but the woman was no longer in the seat beside her. Oh God! What was happening? Then suddenly she heard a rope snap, and she heard a series of clanking noises from above. Glass was falling from the ceiling! there were a few more screams, then she felt herself being slammed to the floor. Someone had run clear over the poor girl! and left her there on the floor between chairs. She was stepped on again. What on earth was going on? Suddenly, she heard an enormous crash, and felt a painful jagged edge stab her right in the right shoulder. Then the air grew hot.

Where did he take her?

She heard the voice of a very worried man, then she heard Madame Giry answer,

Quickly monsieur, I will take you to him, but remember, keep your hand at the level of your eyes.

She also heard little Meg in the background somewhere, but her concern was now not on what they were saying. There was smoke, she distinctively smelt the smoke rising from all directions. Another fire! another fire. She couldn't believe it. She went to release herself from the grip of the unfriendly glass that ground into the skin of her back, but she was being held under with great force. So afraid she was, I'm going to die She thought, but she couldn't let that happen. She had come too far, and she really wanted to know what was going on. So from what she heard this man say, someone had taken her somewhere. It must have been Christine. The Phantom must have kidnapped her. That was the only explanation she could think of to fit the situation.

The air grew hotter, and a now very trapped and in pain Kristen began to choke on the fumes she was breathing in. It was now or never, she had to escape, or be killed. She cast forth her arms into a vast nothingness, and tried to find something to pull herself out with. She found herself thanking God that someone had squished her so insensitively into the floor, for if she had remained seated, she would already be dead, or close to her. But then she screamed out in pain. As she pulled herself from the wreckage, she could feel blades, or glass, cutting at her back. ((The reader who has either read or seen "The Phantom of the Opera" would know that this was the fallen chandelier she was trapped beneath))

The glass had made terrible gashes into her skin, and the hot polluted air did nothing to help the stinging pain of a fresh wound to the open air. "MADAME GIRY!" Kristen choked, but already the room was growing quiet, for people were fleeing at a breakneck speed, and no one seemed to care that she was there, confused, and that her sense of direction was gone. She thought about running to where they had come from, but being caught between chairs and beneath an incredibly large piece of... glass, had muddied her bearings. She could not find her way, but she had to try. She forced herself to stand, though she could feel small trickles of blood pouring down her back beneath the similar colored dress. She was told it was red, but her attire was the last thing she was thinking about at the moment. She took a few steps, but soon found herself slammed against a wall. She felt the wall until she reached a set of stair.

The smoke was growing thicker. How could Madame Giry have just left her there like that to die? She had told her that she would be right there by her side no matter what, and where was she now? off to aid some young idiot! She growled, crawling up these steps, steps she did not know were the very steps to the stage, to the very source of the entire incident. Then, all was quiet. Not one person remained in the theater, but she could hear the cracking of wood all around. The place was burning down, and she could feel the heat almost scorching her body. Upon reaching the top of this stair case, she held out her hands in hopes of feeling fresh air, she could not know where she was going, she hoped perhaps they had been steps leading to the entrance, or exit, but apparently not. She stood, her arms out, she walked forward, hoping and praying she would not die.

Please God, help me find my way, do not let me die, She prayed. Lead me to my living destiny Then all was irrelevant, all was in shadow and silence.

When Kristen finally came to, she realized she was lying on a cold stone floor, her head was killing her, and the smoke was gone. If she could have seen what had happened to her, she would have remembered falling through the fire pit of the stage set, and down into the labyrinth of a painful hell. Her back throbbed painfully against the stone floor as she laid on her back. She had hit her head terribly hard, and she could have sworn she must have cracked her skull open. To top off this list of injuries, her left ankle felt extremely twisted, perhaps broken. She was not dead, it was too dark to be heaven and too cold to be hell, and she knew she had reached her tomb. In the darkness and silence, she began to whimper silently,

"Oh, God why did you have to leave me like that, Giry" she sobbed, "Where are you now Madame Giry? Where? Why did you betray me?" she sobbed out these words, then said no more. Her crying helped a little at least to relieve the pain surging through her body, through her un-welcoming veins. She almost wished that the fire had claimed the rest of her, this was the second fire she had survived, "God must love watching me fight through fire from that lovely little pillow of cloud in the sky" She growled vengefully. Her Stubbornness getting the best of her once more, she tried to stand, but her left ankle, oh her left ankle. Any little bit of pressure applied to that foot sent smarting surges of physical anguish throughout her entire being. She fell once more to the stone cold floor, and let out a blood curdling scream.

Her back had been torn up and now she realized just how bad the extent of her misfortune was. Her scream though, half by pain, was more of a cry for help and a cry of frustration. Here she was, severely damaged, and no one knew she was there. No one. "HELP ME!" She cried out in one last attempt to satisfy her frustration and perhaps make her existence there known to someone who perhaps remained within the walls of the Populaire. She then began to cry in her frustrations, pulling her finger nails to her face and scratching down on her pale skin. If she was going to die, she didn't want to die like this, she wished it could have been the fire to finalize her life, not this sad sorry hole, that now consumed her once more in a state of unconsciousness.


	7. Nightmares and Comfort

**A/N:Thank you so much for the reviews, I honestly don't know how many readers I have who do not review, I know there are lots of people out there who read and leave, not that that is a bad thing, hehe. So I think I mentioned in one of the previous chapters that I will be out of town for the next two weeks, so I hope that I've provided you with enough story to keep you interested until then, I promise to return with lots of awesome story line, and I'll try not to torture anyone with those annoying cliffhangers (I hate those!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera or any of it's characters, Oh but if I did!... (presses fingers together like Mr. Burns and says ... "Excellent")**

_You alone, can make my song take flight. It's over now the music of the night._This was the end. Erik knew they were going to find him, and he would be sentenced to death for what he had committed. Crimes of murder, theft, threat, assault, the list was an endless scroll of sin. How could she have returned to him that one last time just to give him the ring, which in all honesty should have remained hers. It was from that bloody Raoul! Was it fun for her to give him one last taste of false hope, then shatter it upon leaving? But he could not kill the man. Not when Christine loved him that much.

Could this have had an outcome any worse? Tears trickled down his face unmasked, the one chance he had at real love, the one chance he had to finally be happy, gone forever. There would be no one there to hold, no one there to be with, it was a cold acceptance. So greatly he just wished to know what it was like to be normal, to walk in broad daylight... hand in hand with his beautiful Christine... but not with his curse. There wasn't a woman in the world who could love him.

His heart was damaged in a way that it could never be repaired. He thought about letting them find him, because his life was over. The very source of his musical inspiration was gone, gone with that perfect man. He was as good as dead anyway. The Populaire was burning to the ground. He was safe where he was, five cellars down, no fire would reach that far, it would stop upon touching the levels of stone. But he heard them coming. It occurred to him what would happen when they discovered him there. They would take him to the surface and have him thrown in some filthy jail cell, or hung, or shot that very night, once more a public display to all who wished to see the devil's child show his horrid face once more to the uncaring world. He would rather rot within the walls, at least he would be somewhat comforted in knowing that he died within the very place he first met Christine, in the Opera Populaire.

Upon smashing the last mirror, he dropped the large candle holder, and simply walked through the frame where the glass had beforehand existed. The thick red curtain fell down to conceal his path of escape, and he disappeared into an eternity of winding hallways, and endless passages.

Where am I? Were the first words that ran through Kristen's head as she slowly regained consciousness. It was evident that she was no longer lying on a stone cold floor, in a pool of her own blood. She felt what lay beneath her and it was far from hard. She felt cushioned, as if lying on a heap of pillows. It must have been a bed, the sheets were silk, the pillows were the same. She was saved. It must have been Madame Giry who rescued her. Who else knew to go back to look for the blind girl? The ballet mistress had kept her residence there a total secret. All was not completely silent. She heard trickling, or dripping. It must have been water. Wherever she was, it was still cold. "Hello?" she asked quietly, her shy and trembling voice gently echoing against the stone walls.

When Erik had attempted his escape from the angry mob of stage hands who pursued to hunt him down, he had taken an unusual route. He rarely ever went through that mirror, and the only reason he smashed it was because he knew he would never reenter his lair. It was the site of too many bad memories. But when he heard that blood curdling scream coming from the very direction he was headed in, it hit him that he was not alone in that god forsaken theater. He stumbled upon her unconscious body then. He immediately recognized her as that blind little rat he had once warned to leave. She didn't listen, she was still here. She was drenched in her own blood, her ankle was severely mangled, her hair was a mess and her forehead seemed bruised beyond mending. He looked up. She had fallen from the stage. She must have been in the audience.

He snarled, anger now mixed with the sadness and despair within him. Now what? she was his problem? No, he would not help her. It was her fault, she had not heeded his warning. She didn't mean a thing to him, and it would not hurt him in the least if she died right there, like that. But,

He had a choice. He could continue on his way, or he could check to see if she was alive. A fall like that would have killed most, but apparently not her. Why was she still alive? Why was she fighting? She had lost everything apparently, shouldn't she want to die? He knelt to this severely injured and wounded girl, he realized that her chest moved up and down slowly. She was not dead, but soon would be. Normally he would have left a victim of tragedy for dead, but he was not himself this night. He had already done the unthinkable by letting Christine go with her perfect little Raoul, it was probably the only gracious course of action he had ever taken. His lips still burned from that kiss she had granted him. The kiss that had turned him from a fierce monster, into, if only a fraction of, a man.

He carefully picked up this marred bundle of flesh and blood, and found himself turned into the other direction, bringing her back with him, into the prison of his past. _Why am I doing this_? A voice in the back of his head asked him.

_Because she does not deserve to die_ The hypothetical angel on his right shoulder answered.

_And what do you care_? He asked his thoughts, those little voices he always made a point of ignoring

_Because Madame Giry made you promise never to harm her. She asked you to watch over her_...

He brought her back through that shattered mirror. It had been a few hours at least since the mob had packed themselves out of the dungeons, and up into the streets, to hunt down this murderer. The place was left in a mess. A thoughtless mess of scattered papers and turned over furniture. As if they would find him under a chair, or a table, he thought sarcastically as he looked at the remains of an angry pursuit.

He laid her down onto the lovely swan shaped bed that he had once dreamed Christine would someday sleep in. He hated this. Christine was still the only thing he could think of, how was he supposed to take care of this foolish young woman? this girl who could not see. He would have to be there when she awoke, he would have to make sure that she did not try to escape, for fear she would fall into the waters and to her death. Then there was the thought of her awaking and hearing the voice that had angered her so before.

Christine. He tried to force her from his mind, but he could not. He had to, but he could not. She would be there with him forever, even though he would never see her again.

He gently turned Kristen over and onto her back, and realized then just how injurious her wounds were. All up and down her back, glass had cut her, from when she had dragged herself from the painful penitentiary that was the chandelier. There had been a lot of blood, but she would not need stitches. She was a mess of cloth, blood, and marred skin. She could not stay in those clothes. He was faced with a challenge now... he had never seen a real woman without clothes, and he never made sport of spying on the women in the change rooms, like disgusting little fellows such as Joseph Bouquet did. The female body, Erik thought, was a beautiful thing, not to be made a joke of, and look at the way this fateful night had treated Kristen... it was all his fault. What would she think upon waking to find that she was wearing something entirely different than she'd... fallen unconscious in?

Now, as Kristen observed her surroundings with what was left of her senses, she found that it was far from a normal household. The possibility of being in a doctor's office was just not there, she remembered the cold heartless surface of the hospitals beds, they were far from this delicate mass of comfort. She had called out, but received no answer.

"HELLO?" She repeated, and realized her voice had echoed far beyond what she thought possible. It was apparent to her that her accommodations, however permanent or temporary, were large, and roomy.

"Keep your mouth shut!" Came a voice, with a dark nature, almost hissing. Kristen heard his footsteps creep in through the doorway with haste. "Do you want them to come and take us both? Do you want to be found and taken to jail?" Kristen moved backwards, as if somewhat frightened, despite the agonizing pain she felt at her back, her ankle, and her head, she tried with amazing personal will to show no pain. This man spoke angrily, sadly, menacingly. Who was this? And why did the voice sound so familiar to her?

"Where am I?" Kristen asked. She opened her nonfunctioning eyes and looked towards the voice, though she could not see him. Erik watched the girl curiously. When she had still been unconscious, and after he had dressed her wounds, and changed her clothes, he had taken the time to look at her. He was surprised that she was scarred. When he watched her from the ceiling he had not noticed such marks on her upper face, but they were there when he turned her over, and they were not fresh. She had once been through something, and he realized that Madame Giry was right, she was a curious girl.

He didn't know if he should answer, if she found out, she would not be happy. She had little faith in the Phantom of the Opera, as he had heard. No, he would not tell her. He would not tell her that she was already surrounded by darkness and that her eyes wouldn't be of much use if she could use them. He had little strength left to deal with an angry woman, and it had taken so much strength to stay awake until she awoke, so that he could warn her of the dangers of where she was. He almost wished he had not rescued this little brat, it was because of her that he was back here, it was because of her that he could not leave for quite some time now... and what if Christine came back to him? and found that he had another woman in his home? She would leave for sure and never return. He silently growled, but restrained his anger.

"That is not important" He answered. His tone now authoritative, the shout that existed before had left. It would not do her good to remain afraid, and he could not risk raising his voice, being cautious to the threat that perhaps he still had hunters lurking about in hopes of finding him.  
"All you need to know is that you are safe unless you move from this bed. You must never move from this bed unless permitted, there are many dangers that a blind woman should not be faced with.

"How do you know I am blind?" Kristen asked, and immediately after broke out into a fit of coughing. She was feverish. Her voice inquisitive, and somewhat offended. How much could he possibly know about her? Erik fell into a chair, somewhat distanced from the bed in which she lay, unable to hold himself any longer. He was now both annoyed, and exhausted. This night had taken a toll greater than anything else he had been through, on him, and he was losing strength rapidly.

"You are far too nosy for my taste" he said, in an exhausted whisper. Kristen, in contrast to his weary state, grew to feel a wrath of rage towards this... voice.

"YOU! I recognize that whisper, you were the one hovering over my bedroom the other night, telling me to leave this place! You! You m..." She was cut short, she had moved her injured leg and found she had to hold her mouth shut of prevent from screaming, her shriek forced into a simple "MMMMM" with the closing of her lips. "Why did you spy on me? Why did you try to send me away?"

"You do not belong here" he said simply, as he had told Madame Giry, "And now look where you are. If you would have heeded my warnings, I would not be stuck with you, I would not be back in this prison forever awaiting a death that will never come!" He hissed, his voice of dark anger. Kristen frowned. What could he possibly be talking about? What on earth had happened to him that made him so sullen and unhappy. She laid back in her bed, helplessly. Even if she wanted to find her way out, for starters she couldn't see and now her ankle hurt her beyond reason to move it.

"I'm sorry" she said, slightly annoyed. Whatever had happened to him, he was taking it out on her, but obviously he had saved her from death, she owed him the victory in this fight, whoever he was. "Did Madame Giry tell you to come for me?" she asked in a hateful tone. That woman who had left her there for dead made her cringe, why had she left her there? why?

"No" Erik answered wearily. His eyes now closed, his elbow on the hand rest and his head in his hand. He was too tired to be angry with this irritating girl, too sad to be hateful, he was just thankful she could not see his face to question the mask, God only knows how thankful he was. She chuckled bitterly,

"So she was just going to leave me to die..."

"She has a habit of deceiving those closest to her" Erik said malignantly, standing, "Listen carefully. You are not to leave this bed, there are many places where you might fall and several where you may drown." He was so commanding that Kristen now feared to question this. He had left, she heard his footsteps echo off, and was left there alone.

"Like I can walk on this foot to escape _anyway_" She said sarcastically, and remained laying, within the confines of her soft silky prison.

He still didn't answer my questions, she thought, quite annoyed. She didn't know where she was, who he was... and, what was this? She felt her stomach. She had been wrapped in bandages, she could feel more on her back as she lay. How many cuts had she obtained from the sharp objects that fell to her from what seemed like no where? She felt these bandages beneath the most soft fabric she had ever felt in her life. It must have been silk, expensive silk. She was dressed in a soft, soft gown, made of... silk. He must have changed her, he must have bandaged her wounds, this man who spoke with such a pained voice. There was sadness there that she could detect like a second nature. His voice was different from other voices, his voice was of a permanent state of... sadness. He had a beautiful voice, though he chose to ruin it's sound with such angry hisses and shouts, and whispers. She thought she should thank him, the next time this voice chose to walk in.

Erik stumbled about the main area of his house. This was a mess, everything was a mess! His belongings were scattered everywhere, disorganized and ruined. His music, scattered, thoughtlessly, carelessly thrown aside without the slightest sign that any regard had been taken in it's favor. Such stupid fools, such idiotic menacing fools!

"WHY?" he shouted into the blackness, calling out to anyone... to God, to Christine, to the very hell he was living in. Why had everything turned out this way. A huge chapter of his life had been devoted to Christine, since she was a child to the moment he knew he loved her, and look at him now, here, alone... no, not alone. God must be laughing now, sending her to him like a burden, like a purpose to whatever life he possessed here after his death, after his Angel had left him.

He fell to his knees and tried to pick up the mass of scattered pages, but there were so many, so many unfinished scores, so many unperfected masterpieces, and they all reminded him of a bitter past. Most of the pages closer to the organ were written for Christine. All of them, as he picked them up, page by page, brought him closer and closer to tears.

"Christine" he said, in a weak and sad voice. "Why did you leave, Christine?" he asked, as if she could hear him through the pages as he spoke while looking at. He gave up. He could not clean the area in his state and he knew it. Putting the delicate sheets of paper on the stone floor once more, so carefully, compared to the way they had been recklessly thrown around before, he stood, just barely making it to his feet, and once into his room, that pit of everything sad, he fell into his bed, which was a coffin, and drifted roughly into an uneasy sleep.

Kristen shut her broken eyes and tried to rest, tried to dream, or at least daydream. It was maddening for her, trying to put a face to his voice. She was surprised to hear him yell "WHY!" and even more surprised to hear him weeping. Christine, he had been whispering. Did he mean Christine Daae? the woman he was singing with... the woman who had disappeared just before the theater was consumed by chaos. Had he kidnapped her? Had he taken her from the stage? and from what she heard of his grievous woeings, the singer had left him. He must have loved her. Kristen, who had never known love herself, had gone through a similar dilemma once herself, with a teenage crush that did not return her feelings, but obviously she had arrived near the very end of this man's tragedy. He sounded heartbroken, and Kristen couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of pity upon this. She was devastated the day she was turned down by the boy she loved with all her heart, Nicholas, who had loved another named Amanda. That little tramp! she mentally cursed. She was the prettiest girl in town, she could have had any boy she wanted, but she had to have her Nicholas. A boy who was quite interested in Kristen until Amanda came around. The two were probably married now.  
"And where am I?" she asked herself out loud, though quietly, "Blind, in darkness, never to look upon beauty again." Tears came to her eyes. It surprised her that thinking of this voice who had saved her directed her to thinking of a boy who had broken her heart. It was quite a clean break, by now she was over it, but the feeling of being in love and then not having that love returned was, deadly, it was soul shattering. She could feel them streaming down her cheeks, these tears of memory to her Nicholas. Does he even think of me? She asked herself, taking one of the soft pillows from the bed and hugging it to herself closely. She had not felt the need to be loved since Nick's rejection. She swore on that day, even if she was only 13, that she would never love again. But she craved it so, every now and then she wished there was somewhere here to hold. But she swore she would never make herself so exposed to heartache ever again.

Several hours later, Erik awoke. After the first few moments of trying to recall what it was that had so turned his world into a fiercer hell than it already was, he stood from the coffin with weak steps. Erik rarely slept long, if at all. Christine's kiss was the only thing on his mind as he moved into the main living quarters and began to straighten the damage and disarray caused by those angry hunters. He would never feel lips to his again, this memory was going to have to last him forever. His Christine, who was kind enough to bestow upon him his first and last kiss, was gone, and now he fully felt pain and torment. As he straightened the sheets, he could, in his mind, see her leaving him that ring, and rowing off with Raoul... and that reminded him. The two had taken the boat, as he ordered them to, and it was on the other side of the lake still. He would need that boat if he was to ever get out the way he usually did, but that would mean going through the passages, and the risk of meeting someone could be great, depending upon how much of the theater had survived the fire, and how many people could still be possibly lurking around in search of their ominous Opera Ghost.

Look what happened the last time I walked through passages, he thought with great levels of sarcasm and irritability.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally managed to restore his home to what it had once been, somewhat tidy and not so hard to look at. At least he knew where things were. Several of his belongings had been broken, and he found himself taking out what was left of his broken mirrors. Then, he stood on the shore and contemplated whether or not he should go around and retain his boat, when he was startled beyond his capacity to be afraid. The noise he heard had sent him almost into the water in which he stood before. He had just then forgotten about the young, injured and scarred woman who slept in Christine's room, and now she was screaming her bloody head off! He ran towards the bedroom and lifted the beautiful black curtain immediately. She was asleep, but so deep in raging nightmares that he feared he would not be able to wake her, and it was still too risky to make such noises.

"Kristen! Kristen you must stop this! Wake up!" he called to her, standing over her, but she did not awake. She was sweating heavily, and, crying? She was crying... Erik thought, as he looked upon her with wonder.

"Nicholas" the girl had whispered, before letting out another shriek of either pain or fear in her dreams. He knelt down,

"Kristen, you must awake!" he ordered, lightly shaking her, as if afraid to touch her for fear she would scream more, or break.

"I CAN'T SEE!" She screamed louder, jerking back and forth, making a mess of the sheets and nearly rolling out of the bed. If he had not been there to stop her, she would have fallen out and injured herself worse. "MOTHER!"

"KRISTEN! WAKE UP!" Erik shouted, his voice booming from the walls. Kristen awoke then suddenly, his hands now forcefully grasping her shoulders. She sat up, the action very painful to her back and mid section, but it was over as soon as it came. And she cried. Those hands on her shoulders were confident, and aware. She held silent, a few moments more, then fell into a fit of sad sobs. She was crying. Her dreams must have been horrible, and who was this "Nicholas" she had whispered about? Why did he care? She was sweating a frightful amount, and as Erik noticed this, he felt her forehead,

"Jesus Kristen, you're burning hot" Erik said quietly. He was glad he awoke her before she made her voice heard to someone above. Anyone could be close by, the next few days would require crucial silence. Really, he still asked himself why he cared. On some level, perhaps this girl reminded him of Christine, so helpless, lost and innocent, perhaps that was why he cared, despite Giry's orders for him to watch over her, that had reminded him of Christine from that day. This girl did not deserve to be visited by the angel of music, but he found himself hovering over her from the ceiling any way. And why? to prevent her from getting caught up in his plans! and why? these thoughts scared him. He was incapable of caring for any other than Christine in the least bit, he would not become too fond of this little rat, Kristen.

Still she cried silently, wrapping her arms around herself and... crying. Erik stood and watched her. She had only felt hands on her shoulders and he knew it. She had not seen the look in his eyes upon letting her go. Guilt. She was hurt because of him, and she was in the dark because he would not tell her anything. He could not, she would be too upset. He left her momentarily, and returned with a wet cloth,

"Lay back, Kristen" Erik said softly, placing the cloth to her forehead, while slowly guiding her to lay on her back once more. Her face was still red with tears and fear, but she felt herself calming and slightly comforted upon his gentle touch.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked between sobs, perhaps still somewhere between sleep and wake, she thought he had told her that she was a burden to him, and yet, he was caring for her.

"Because you are ill... because if you have another dream like that you could very well bring the entire French police academy to these hidden quarters, and the both of us could be sent to jail, I could be killed and you would have no where else to go." she closed her nonfunctioning eyes as he placed his hand to the cloth on her forehead. She continued to sob, though trying extensively to stop, what she had just dreamed had been a collection of lows in her life, and these memories were terrifying to relive. Eventually she calmed down completely, soothed by this mysterious stranger and reminding herself that they were only dreams, and that their contents were in the past, and would never revisit her again.

"Who are you?" Kristen asked quietly, as he remained seated at the side of her bed, occasionally dipping the cloth in fresh water that he had obtained from the lake. He froze a little. He did not expect her to talk to him while he did this, it was surprising to him that any one could feel the need to talk to him, but she could not see him, it was understandable. If she could see his face she would scream and run just like everyone else... save for his Christine, had done in the past.

"You do not want to know" He said bitterly. Kristen reached out to touch his face, she had heard that the blind could make out how someone looked with their hands. Erik moved back quickly,

"You must never touch the..." he realized she did not know he wore a mask, up until now, he wished beyond all reason that he had never said those words. He could have kept his disfigurement a secret from her until she was strong enough to leave this place on her own, but now it was quite possible all hope for that was lost.

"The what?" Kristen asked, laying down her hand, giving up the attempt of touching his face. She then figured he did not want to be touched. "Tell me who you are, or should I call you the Phantom, forever?" she asked. He snorted,

"Forever? I highly doubt you will be with me _forever_, Kristen, for never has anyone willingly stayed with me. You are here only because you are injured, and because you are blind. When you have recovered, I will help you leave as you will wish it." But these words did little to help her increasing anger. She soon grew frustrated, despite her illness,

"For heaven sakes, Phantom, Who are you? What is your name?" She said in ire. His eyes opened to her,

"You dare yell at me in such a way... I admire your courage." he hissed sarcastically.

"Well, I have hardly a reason to be afraid if I do not know who to be afraid of, because I have not a name to match the voice, and I can see not a face to match these hands which show me such care!" she argued.

Erik sighed. Her voice was trembling. She was on some level aghast and he could detect it. What surprised him was that she spoke through fear, walked through walls of fright and cursed down her sadness when he had known nothing in life than running and hiding from fears and concealing himself from almost everything that posed a threat. They were two people who dealt with situations quite differently.

"Fine" he said, bitterly losing yet another battle with this roach. His jaw pushing tightly against his upper teeth, in attempt to mask dissatisfaction that would have come out in his voice. "You may call me Erik" he said dryly, and replaced the cloth to her heated brow once more, in attempt to calm her fever. She seemed to lift her head ever so gently each time he placed the cloth to her skin. Was she inviting his therapy?

"Erik?" she whispered, "I suppose I should thank you then... Erik." And upon these words, he was disbelieving. She was being kind? to a monster?

Before he was able to even think about returning with the tradition "you're welcome", she was once again, asleep. It was only when he rose from his position over her, that he noticed the tears threatening to release themselves from his eyes. Her kindness, such simple kindness, had brought tears to his eyes. Kristen, this poor little creature, was making him cry. He looked upon this troubled young woman, and gently traced her burn scars with his thumb, feeling every inch of distorted tissue that besieged her lovely face. As the doctor had told her himself, she was still beautiful, these marks hardly deterred her appearance.

Why had fate been kinder to her? she was scarred, as was he, but his disfigurement was far beyond what anyone would consider beautiful, and hers was almost enhancing. How was it possible? He wondered what she had been through, wondered where she got these scars. He shed tears as he touched her soft features. Her skin so warm under his touch, never again had he ever imagined a woman would be this close to touch. Nothing had ever felt more tenderhearted. It was then that he realized the anger he felt, that Madame Giry had left Kristen to lead Raoul to his lair! Madame Giry had left her, betrayed both of these haunted victims of cruel fate, to lead Raoul to Erik's possible death, putting both Erik and Kristen in grave danger. Strange that Giry's crossing actions had taken away from him love, but bestowed upon him, a friend...

**Ok, I hope that wasn't too terribly long, although sometimes you need a really long chapter, (Please review, I need reviews, lol)**


	8. True Distortion

**Chapter 8: **

**(Authors note: Many who have not read the book know Armande as Andre, they are the same person, one of the managers) Last chapter for a while, hope you enjoy! Please Review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera or characters**

"Dozens wounded, one murdered, one missing." The police officer said, facing Madame Giry, Armande and Firmin.

This is nothing short of disastrous" Firmin stated, stomping a foot on the rubble beneath his feet. "Keep searching for him! If you've found that blasphemous Opera Ghost, KILL HIM!" He shouted in utter rage. The officer shook his head,

"Monsieur, I'm sure if he..."

"The phantom is dead" Madam Giry said calmly, with an air of dignity. "I can assure you, he would not have survived this tragedy"

"You do not know that" Said the officer, "But I doubt he will get away if he is alive. He was not in the under grounds, we had men and some women who decided to help, search the place widely, he was not found. If he lives, he does not remain in this building"

"How much will the damages cost to repair?" Firmin asked, still quite upset.

"My estimate ranges in the areas of five to ten hundred thousand francs, but I wouldn't recommend trying to restore the Populaire sir, it is quite ruined"

Erik chuckled arrogantly. Quite ruined veraciously! He watched from the shadows of box 5. Fools, he thought. Here he was in the shadows of a place they knew to be the very box haunted by him, but they made no move to search over it. Not that if they had they would ever see him. He was far too sharp to be caught by the likes of them.

"What is the name of the woman missing?" The officer asked.

"Verlaine" Giry replied, "Her name is Kristen Verlaine. The poor dear, I only hope she is ok."

"Where did you last see her before she went missing"

"She was in the audience," Giry answered, "I left her to try and help other matters, but oh, if I had only known the chandelier was going to fall. You see, when I left her, I was running in result of the Phantom's kidnapping of Christine, not because of the chandelier. Oh, but I don't know where she could have gone. She is blind."

At this the officer looked at her with wide eyes.

"You left a blind girl amidst tragedy?" Giry shot daggers from her eyes,

"If you knew what was going on, you would have left too. That poor girl was on her way to certain doom when she fell from the stage in the arms of that madman. Now I already said that I did not know the situation with the chandelier, and I already told you that if I had known, I would not have left her, I would have helped her. The Phantom was obsessed with Ms. Daae, I had to help Raoul get her out of there." "

Did he get her out?" The officer and Firmin both asked in unison.

"Yes, but now you must find Kristen." Madam Giry was dying inside because of this tragedy. In all truth, she should not have left Kristen alone, but she had to help Christine, she just had to. Erik would have condemned her to a life of darkness and hell.

"We have searched these walls, Madame, if she is in the building, she is very lost, or dead. Perhaps she was injured and crawled off somewhere"

Erik couldn't believe his ears. They spoke of Kristen as if she was some kind of object, a thing, or a disregarded pet, yet was she not their guest? Typical of the average human to lay blame on the victim, wasn't it so much easier that way? With a swish of his cape, he was gone, back down into his hell, to check on the fallen soul that had landed there.

Kristen re-awoke at the sound of the Phantom's staff scraping against the floor beneath the lake. What was that noise? she slowly, very very slowly sat up in the bed, so as to not hurt her wounds, even though they caused her great pain. She had slept off much of her weariness, though she was still fevered. She listened as the sound grew closer, and she eventually heard footsteps on a stone floor. He was back? Where had he gone in the first place?

'Erik?" she called out, her voice timid. When had she become so shy? she asked herself.

"Quiet" he answered her, walking in. "I brought you some food" he said, coming into the bedroom, "You must be quite hungry." Kristen sighed, and nodded,

"Yes, quite" she replied. "Where did you go?" she asked

"To get you the food" he responded half heartedly, taking her hands and placing within them the plate of food. "Bread and cheese" he told her, so that she could know what she was about to eat. "The entire main theater is destroyed." he said, thinking she might be interested.

"We're still in the Opera House?" She asked. Erik frowned. She really was blind, she was completely disoriented, and had no idea of her surroundings.

"Kristen" Erik said, "I wish I could tell you everything, but I cannot" he could have chosen to ignore her, but he felt a strange connection to her, an understanding of her darkness, her pain and suffering, and now they both had it in common that Madam Giry betrayed them. "You will recover, and then you can leave. You won't have to worry about being here any more"

"Erik, why do you sound so sad?" she asked.

He froze. What had she just inquired? This foolish little child. He could have grown angry, but with the officer and the managers and Giry in the same building, he could not trust his voice to withhold itself from their ears.

"Curiosity killed the cat" he said quietly, and in a voice that rather betrayed no emotion. He would not get into it with her, truthfully he didn't even know if he could talk about it.

"I'm not a cat" she countered. Was she trying to annoy him? She ate the food she was given and was quite satisfied, placing the plate in front of her on the bed, she looked up as if trying to find his direction, "Thank you" she said, returning to her original position.

"Why won't you tell me anything? Where I am or who you are..."

"I told you my name" he replied before taking the plate, standing and turning to leave, "You are in no place to be demanding information." he stated, before exited the site of her presence.

She growled below her breath. He was impossible! Completely impossible! She sighed out with despair, if only she could stand to find her way as she had done in her room. She moved her ankle, to her unfortunate displeasure, it was still in it's sorry state. The pain that shot up her leg was almost unbearable, but she held back her screams so as to not beckon that annoying voice back into her room. If anything she needed to be alone right now, but that still did not satisfy her hunger to remove herself from the bed and find her surroundings.

Erik removed himself from her room at once. The girl liked to argue, it seemed. He would not put up with that, even if she WAS blind! As he looked around his now tidied quarters, he was brought once more to a state of sadness and tears. Pictures and reminders of Christine Daae remained within the chamber. Her beauty, her elegance, her voice... lost. He almost had the urge right then and there to leave the Populaire, track down the fled couple and murder that insolent excuse for a man! If only the whole of Paris were not looking for him at this very moment.

Once more, Erik left this dungeon of his to return to box five and watch the business men and officers go over what had to be done for the Populaire, and for O.G.

Kristen heard his exit, however quiet it was. He kept leaving. OH! she grumbled, he would not even stay with her. Was she really that much a burden? She must have been, for both Giry and now Him to keep leaving her in darkness. She had heard his warning though, don't leave the bed. Now she realized how much she really wanted to get up and move around, despite her ankle. The thing would never heal if it remained inactive, right? When he returned, she would demand assistance where walking was concerned, or she would brave these confines alone. She was blind but she wasn't helpless, if that's what he thought!

Where are we going to get that much money?" Firmin stated nervously to Armande,

"Relax!" the man replied, "We'll get a loan from the bank, all will be fine. In no time at all the Opera house will be up and running again, we'll have new attractions, new dancers, new singers, and the whole business with the Opera Ghost will have vanished from beneath our very feet."

Erik was quite amused. Is that what they thought? They were just going to repair the Populaire and everything would return to normal? Well, what normal were they asking for? The normal before his threats began to circulate or after? He watched them blabber on about buying new instruments and making meetings at the conservatory of music when he heard the faintest footsteps approaching the hallway outside the box. Within moments, he was in total shadow behind the walls of box. 5.

Madame Giry entered the box and closed the door behind her, "Erik where are you" she snapped in a hoarse and angered whisper, "Where are you and what have you done with Kristen"

He did not reply. Could he trust the woman so? only hours after she had betrayed him? He would not risk it. He left the box as silent as a ghost, leaving her there alone, talking to no one.

So they were going to repair the Opera Populaire? he mused greatly as he headed back to his home beyond the lake. This was almost too good to be true, at least he would be greatly entertained. Erik himself was the architect who designed the Populaire, those idiots wouldn't know the first thing about rebuilding it properly. Was it his problem? he really had to ponder, but he finally came to the conclusion upon entering his lair that yes, it was his problem. This was his theater, they were going to build it the way he wanted it.

"Erik!" Kristen called from the room she had been confined to. He clenched his teeth and fists together, quite annoyed that his thoughts had been disturbed, and he made his way to her room, his anger and his reasoning doing great battle within his mind. He was letting her stay there when right now all he really wanted to do was dump her butt into the lake and be done with it all! Now he had more important things to deal with, other than this little brat.

"What?" he returned rather darkly, entering the girl's room and looming over her like a dark shadow. She realized his tone and suddenly, she was not so sure of herself. It was amazing the power he had over people, the way he was able to frighten so many. She remembered the conversation she had with Meg regarding his ability to scare, perhaps she really would congratulate him... but not now, not when she was sunk back within her sheets almost shaking like a leaf.

Erik saw this new fear he had sparked within her, and he immediately grew to a different level of calm. This was something he hardly expected from the only girl who lived within the theater and did not fear this "Phantom". She was very stubborn and very determined, yet he was making her quiver such. He closed his eyes and turned from her, "You fear so, your rescuer?" He said, his voice just riddled with quiet anger.

Kristen's lips slightly parted. This was different. He was annoyed at her fear? Among the many other things she supposedly did to irritate him? like being there for starters. Was he annoyed or disappointed? Well what did he expect when he entered the room sounding like he wanted to kill her.

"Maybe if you were a bit nicer..." she began to argue, but he cut her off.

"Why should I be? Why should I be NICE to anyone?" Why was he even bothering to argue with her? It was stupid and pointless.

"And what did I ever do to you to make you come in here with a voice that could only have deadly intentions?" she said in returned anger.

"Is that what you think?" he queried, "You think I am going to kill you when I have nursed you back to an acceptable state?"

"Well I don't know you" she replied, quite upset, "And I only called you in here to ask you if you would help me out of bed. My ankle will not heal if it does not receive the proper exorcise."

"You will not leave the bed" he ordered, "It is too dangerous for you in here to be walking about."

"Now why would someone who questions being kind to people give a damn about whether or not it is safe for me?"

A smile that would have touched her ears spread across her pretty face as she heard him leave the room flustered. She could have laughed right then and there. Oh fighting was such a splendid sport, especially the winning half of it. She soon realized she should not have done that though, what good would it be to make enemies with the Phantom? Obviously, she remembered, he was getting over something traumatic, and in his pain he had found the courtesy to help her. Helped, by the legendary Phantom, she mused. The fascination she had obtained from these legends that filled her mind before, the fascination which Meg had warned her against, returned to her heart once more, even if only for the shortest amount of time, she was inspired.

He picked up that empty bottle of red wine which had impaired him that one night, and threw it against the wall. She was impossible! Completely Impossible! He calmed, and fell to a sitting position in front of his organ. She had been afraid, this blind girl, who could not even see his face.

_It's in your soul, that the true distortion lies._

Christine had said it herself, and up until now the words had not made such a devastating impact on him. He covered his face with his hands. The soprano had been right. He truly was a monster, whether or not he was ugly. She had never seen him, yet when he entered the room she drew back as if she had. He shook his head and sighed out slowly and softly. Christine... was it possible that he was truly as ugly within himself as he was on the outside? No! it could not be, he had such a capacity to love... and yet such ability to kill and destroy. His disputing thoughts did little to help his self reflecting pain. The soprano had been right, he was a terrible thing. A monster.

"Kristen" His voice traveled through open space to reach her ears. She had been sitting there beneath the sheets, her head lowered, feeling the patterns of the blanket with her hand, and completely silent. And there was that sadness again that she had heard before, the same soft sadness. She raised her head slowly, to look in his direction.

"Erik, I'm..."

"You wish to move?" he cut her off, walking into the room. Upon remembering Christine's words, he could not just leave her there. He wished Daae would have never said that. In all honesty he knew that if this girl was not there to occupy his time, he would have been making out the required blue prints to the restoration of the Populaire, and would be thinking of a way to make sure they fell into Madame Giry's deceiving little hands.

She was taken back immediately. Apparently she had won more than she thought before. She heard him coming closer and she only nodded gently,

"Yes" she answered with an air of calmness. She wasn't really afraid now, her ability to pick up emotion within a voice since her eyes were damaged, she realized, was quite the burden in itself, for if she could have seen Erik moving towards her before, she probably would not have shrunk back in fear. Or were the stories of his extreme disfigurement true?

"Then come on, I'll take you to the living room" he said, although he wondered how he would help her at all, she was so marred and wounded that pretty much touching her any where would cause her pain. She pulled the sheet from her and let it fall back onto the bed. She moved both legs around to the side, placing her good foot onto the floor and favoring the other. He moved behind her and allowed her arm to go around his neck to support herself, and she stood.

Indeed she could feel the pain of her bandaged wounds being disturbed, but then again, no pain had ever been worse than the pain she felt when they were changing the bandages of her eyes after she had endured the first fire, so really she could consider this a mere fraction of what pain really was to her.

Once again, the feeling of being touched by another so willingly was strictly alien to him. As he helped her out of that area, she seemed quite content to be moving,

"This does not hurt you?" he asked, his voice now changed into something quite timid or shy, or worried of himself. She realized that too, but did not mention it.

"It does, but I have had worse. I can handle it" She responded, her hold on him was quite tight. For a phantom, she mused, he was considerably warm. His attire was of a soft kind, she rather liked it.

"To your left, there is a lake. The ground here is very jagged, there is no flat surface." And she could tell he wasn't lying. Every two steps was like a mystery, new levels, lower levels, obstacles. She could hear the water as well, she was quite fascinated.

"So this is where the legendary Phantom hides" she pondered out loud, and instantly heard his rather unpleasant response to that.

"I've told you my name, you will not refer to me as... that" he demanded. She sighed,

"Ok, I'm sorry Erik" she said, she didn't imagine the Opera Ghost having such sensitive feelings. If Meg was here now, surely she would have quite the story to tell. Or to write... She thought angrily, once again cursing her inability to see. Now that this second tragedy had come upon her, how was she ever to learn this Braille? it was hopeless. She was inflicted by a brief moment of despair before she shoved these thoughts into the back of her mind where she hoped they would not return from.

He guided her to sit, and upon doing so she realized that beneath her must have been a chair, or couch.

"Are you happy?" he asked, though she could only pick up the slightest bit of spite within those words.

"Quite" she returned, and for a brief moment, her broken eyes were met with his.

He was almost startled once more. It was as if for that second she had actually seen him, their eyes had met even though hers were shattered windows that did not see into the light. She had no idea what he was thinking, and began to wonder why he made not a sound,

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyes now closed and hand moving over the fabric of the couch.

"Nothing" he said, moving to the organ. He sat and played a single note. It was then that She remembered the music he had played before, the music she heard projected from the floor, and she immediately smiled, darting her face in the direction of the lovely noise.

"Erik, will you play for me?" she asked quite happily.


	9. Morbid Fascination

**A/N: I am so sorry to my beloved readers, for being absent for the past two weeks. I just got back last night, and believe me, it is not easy to return to typing stuff when your fingers have lost two weeks practise! I hope you like this chapter, I promise the plot will take a turn somewhere in the next chapter. Please review, I love all of your reviews, you're all so kind :)**

**Disclaimer:I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of it's characters. More's the pitty.**

Kristen could not have prepared herself for the sounds she heard coming out of that instrument. He had not even replied to her request, he just simply played. Her heart had never danced to a song before, but this music seemed to consume her, to imprison her within it's sound. The song was laced with fury, sexuality, and a strange hint of doom. How on earth had anyone come up with this arrangement? Not only was it the music, it was him. No one could have played this song like that and she was sure of it. He was the genius behind it all and he was the one who gave the music feeling.

With each ivory key struck, she seemed to plunge deeper and deeper into it's thrall. She could only sit and listen, with her ears beseeching more and more, when she knew the song was coming to it's massive climatic ending.

Erik himself had wondered why in the hell he allowed himself to play for her. Looking over at her, he could tell she was deeply affected by the piece he justplayed. There were tears in her beautiful nonfunctioning eyes, and she starred into the empty direction of the organ.

"Erik..." she projected softheartedly. She had never felt so touched in her life, such doom was the music, such doom and such longing.

"Kristen I... I'm sorry. I should not have played such material." He returned, with great remorse. He remembered the way Christine had been so fooled, and so interned by what he played. It had made her his puppet, he could not believe that he was playing for Kristen the same sort that he played for Christine, only this music was new, it was from after his heartbreak, but before his awakening. Kristen, however annoying she could force herself to be, was like a light, piercing it's way through the blackness of hell's night, however much he wished not to admit that to himself, with every moment that she stayed there, she was becoming a part of the lair, and perhaps it was becoming dangerously like she belonged there. No! God no, he could not allow himself to become attached to the poor girl. He had never really had a friend before, not a friend like her. Not a young woman.  
Certainly it was only human nature to be attracted to another, but it was not in his nature to expect kindness.

"No Erik! you must be mad. Have others heard your work? Have you ever played for anyone?" She queried, "I have never heard such... beauty."

Beauty, he thought, how Wry. "The only Opera which I have performed for a public audience was the very Opera which nearly resulted in your demise, as well as the demise of an entire Opera house full of people." Kristen listened to him curiously. He was a mess of emotion. A complete mess of chaotic feeling.

"It was a beautiful Opera." She said thoughtfully, thinking back to the night, back to the opera before the destruction of the Populaire. "Erik... what happened between you and Christine?"

"No."

Kristen frowned. That was certainly the most peculiar answer she had ever heard to a question in her life.

"What?" She asked, with an accent of confusion.

Then there was an uncomfortable moment of silence. She could not tell what he was doing, if he was moving or if he remained. She could usually hear everything, but then again, he was the Phantom. She could not be sure if she was hearing his silence, or if he was simply being still.  
He would not let himself get angry with her. His voice... he did not want those above to hear it. And then there was his stupid... stupid... mind. He could not be mad with the poor young woman who sat in the room with him, and it scared him most because he was always able to be angry with people, even with Christine.

"That is none of your concern Kristen, your ears have already ascertained too much from this organ itself. Why must you prod for answers which are not of your regard? I cannot tell you what happened that night, it is an event of which you will never learn of." Somehow his voice had reached a whole new level of pain. She could not decide whether it was dejection or enrage, but something within her was scolding her for even inquiring.

She sighed. He would never open up about it. She figured that the young Ms. Daae had declined him and left him, but it was only a mere speculation of what evidence had given her to work with. Why would Daae leave a man who could work such music? Who could create such excellence?

"If you would speak of it, perhaps it would not haunt you so" She said. He closed his eyes, his teeth ground together in their fury.

"Kristen, why do you care?" he sighed out, tired of these little pursuits of hers to command him. She was far too ungrateful of her position.

She frowned, and in a voice of exhaustion and frustration, she said "Fine, Erik, I'm sorry that I care that my rescuer is the single most sad creature I've ever encountered on the face of this earth. I cannot understand how you keep me here and shun my friendship. I guess it really is useless to help a helpless person."

And clearly she had gone too far in her words. Without a moment between her last word and his next breath, he was at her in a mad ferocity. There was nothing she could do, but endure his closeness. "You've heard of the Phantom, no doubt" He hissed quietly, "You've heard of his wretched hideousness. You cannot expect me, of all sad creatures, to open up about..." He willed himself to speak on, but he could not.

All words had fled his mind. Her poor broken eyes were wide, and tears rimmed her lids. Like a pitiful frightened puppy, she sat before him, curled up and whimpering, almost shaking.  
"I cannot see to judge you by appearance Erik." the tears which fought with such might to stay within her eyes had fallen in a condemned finality, she sniffled somewhat. Her features became scrunched into the face of someone suffering floods of emotional anguish, and she blinked, allowing the flow of further crying tears. In a faint whisper, she managed to get out, "You're frightening me Erik, with your fury." Her inhalation of breath was scourged by trembles.

Once again, he cursed himself. It surprised him greatly that she could be a stubborn little mouse one moment, and a frightened child the next.

"I just hate to see people so sad." And she truly above all, hated to see such a genius speak of himself in such a way. "And I'm sure you are not so wretched as you say..." It was clear to him that she was begging something, and it sounded to him like she soughtforgiveness. She knew itherself that she had insulted him, and she had meant to as well, which was why she felt so bad, but he was just so impracticable, being so sad with not an explanation, being so furious and then falling towards the same emotion which was always there.

"Truly Kristen, your words are foolish" he muttered. He was knelt before her now, he had sunk somewhat to the floor upon witnessing her fear. But she shook her head, as even more tears fell from her lovely crying eyes.

"I can only see your soul Erik. But please don't frighten me any more" she said, her scarred brow knitting together in an immensely saddened frown. He sighed. Now he felt absolutely horrible for the poor girl. She had only her imagination to reveal to her what he was, and for him to lunge at her was just evil. Pure evil. The same evil he somehow wished to vanquish, ever since realizing that it was he who frightened the blind girl, and not his face.

"Kristen" he said quietly, in his deep and beauteous voice, and opened his mouth to say more, but fell silent, in a loss for words. Two seconds later they found themselves in a comforting embrace, her fears dwindling and his emotions admitting defeat. It was a hug that would have perhaps been made by siblings, however, made by friends.

"I'm sorry Kristen" he whispered to her, "I'm sorry." He couldn't understand what it was about seeing her afraid, that made him so unable to keep his hold on his system of beliefs. She accepted this affection, becausehow could she turn it away? he was clearly taking back the anger he had bestowed on her... for the slightest moment she had even forgotten his previous words. The Phantom! was holding her. Her brow against his shoulder, her temple against his neck, she allowed her tears to fall, crying out the pain of this and other fear.

"No Erik, I'm sorry" she said, as their embrace finally ended, "I should not have said those things. I did not mean them. I won't ask any more questions" she said, "And you don't know how grateful I am to you, for taking care of me. I promise I won't be a problem to you any longer."

With the way she was speaking now, he could swear she was desperate, when it was him to blame for every wretched thing which had happened to her since her stay at the Populaire. "Have you heard of Joseph Buquet?" he asked her, standing from the couchwhere she still sat.

"Meg told me of him" Kristen replied, her sobs were quiet and hidden by now, although her tear stainedface still betrayed her tears.

"He was a problem. If you were a problem you would not be here." God he couldn't believe the words that were coming from his mouth. He could have never imagined being kindto such a little nuisance, but he could hardly call her a problem. She was simply a victim, as was he. He could not look upon her with hatred, for she possessed many of the ill fated memories that he perhaps possessed, though he didn't dare say she had gone through half of what he had in his life.

"Come, you should return to bed." he said, taking her hand and helping her to hold onto him for the same support she needed when she first entered the living quarters. She accepted his assistance, the pressure on her ankle still a blinding pain, but she swallowed it back. She deserved it any way, after speaking to him so harshly.

Upon returning her to her bed, he stood there for a small while, and just looked down upon her, until she had to ask, "Is everything all right?"

He knelt by her bedside, and looked towards her, taking her hand, "Kristen, I truly admire your courage, and your strength. If you can believe me when I say this to you, I will try never to be cruel towards you again. I know the way I spoke to you was wrong. You could not know..."

It seemed to him that he was cut off every five seconds with her...

"You wear a mask" she said. He was speechless. Oh God in heaven why had he just made that promise to her? She had reached out to touch his face, only to discover the thin layer of plastic which covered that cursed portion of his visage. Now he wanted to lash out at her once again, but something had settled within himself over the course of the past few days. A mix ofthis girl'sfear and of Christine's tragic words. He could not continue to be so cruel, he could not persistin being such a monster... to this young lady, any way. She may have been sent to him by a strange and laughing fate, but she was there none the less, and she was kinder to him than any other human had ever dared be.

So upon allowing her curious hand to wander his face, he simply nodded, "You've heard the stories" he said, "You are lucky you cannot witness my curse." She frowned and sighed,

"Don't ever say I'm lucky for the loss of my sight." She replied somewhat hurt. "It makes no different whether a thing is beautiful or ugly any more, because all I can see now is the darkness, and that is not luck, Erik, that is burden. You're not the only one in this room with a scarred face, either" She made point to mention, taking her hand away and slowly easing herself into the bed, her wounded back still sore. "I was burned to an extent that I will never see."

"People don't scream when they see your face." he countered.

"How many people have seen me since the fire? A doctor, my own mother and father, and the Giry's, who are by the way, the nicest of the people in the world. Perhaps someone I don't know would scream at my burn scars." She said, her back slightly leaning against the headboard. She raised a hand to touch her scars, she could feel them, twisted, however few they were, they were still there. He could not believe that she was actually taking it into her liberty to assure him that she was possibly as ugly as he, when she was one of the most attractive girls he had ever laid two eyes on.

"Kristen, you're not nearly as scarred as I." he said. It was then that she sat up in bed, ignoring the pain she was growing accustomed to, and looked towards him.

"Can I see your scars?" she asked. Of course she did not mean to literally see, he knew she was asking to feel the flesh beneath his mask, but could he allow it?

"You don't want to" he replied to her, "Trust me, it is better that you do not."

She gazed up into the direction of his voice, "I do... want to" she said, quietly, and shyly. There was much silence now that haunted them both. "Please Erik, you can see me, and my scars."

She felt her hand taken into another, larger warm hand, and placed against a face of rugged features. Her eyes closed as she allowed her hand to roam the uneven ridges of his disfigurement. In her mind, it was becoming all too clear, why it was that he wore a mask. He had granted her that wish, and he expected her to cower away. He watched as she examined his distorted flesh, how curious could a young woman be? However awkward the situation may be, he had never before experienced that sort of touch to his hideous face, even if Christine had once dared to approach him.

"Wow" it was the only word Kristen could find to utter in her quiet astonished voice. "How..."

"I was born this way" he answered, predicting her question ahead of time, his head was lowered, in realization of another moment of saddening sentence.

She continued to investigate the wonder that was his face, until she felt her heart begin to pound. She had to take her hand away, she realized she was becoming a bit obsessive. Sure, conforming people would have an extremely difficult time accepting a man who looked this way into their society... but what a characterhe was!

"Why do I continue to grant you your silly wishes?" he said, "When they always end up causing you some sort of grief." He noticed her withdraw her hand,

She, on the other hand, shook her head slowly, "It's... amazing" she said. He then frowned,

"You find my disfigurement amusing?" he asked, with a slightly bitter tone.

"Not amusing, amazing" she said. "I've never met someone so, different... so... " She was fascinated. So the stories were true, the stories of the Phantom. "I've been meaning to congratulate you, Erik" she said, "On your ability to scare the hell out of the people up in the opera house." She smiled a rather mischievous grin, "If I could do that I wouldn't be down here helping some pathetic little blind girl. I heard your voice that night, when you told me to leave..."

"Yes, and you're the only one who survived never listening to my warning" he answered, "You're the only one who ever yelled back as well" the left corner of his mouth was lifted in a rather dry smirk, which she would not have been able to detect.

"I'm truly... fascinated." she told him. "You must be the only man on earth capable of what you do..."

"You enjoy watching others suffer?" He asked with no emotion.

"When it's all in their head's, yes, it's rather comical" she replied.

Erik watched her. Who on earth was she? This unusual little creature. Was there more to her morbid enchantment towards the stories and his history that he had yet to learn? No one had ever been interested in the activities of a murderer and a supposed mad man. She may have been mad herself. He rose from his knelt position,

"Sleep now" he said, "I will return when you awake."

And he left her in the room to obtain the rest she needed.Placing a hand to his brow, he paced the confines of his lair. Kristen... his thoughts were disordered. As he starred up at the images of Christine Daae that surrounded his home, he felt tears burning in his eyes. He had never felt like this before, never felt obligated to restrain rash actions. What was happening to him? He was turning into something weak, something weak and lonely. As if he wasn't already the loneliest of "sad creatures". She had labeled himquite correctly. Sad creature.

He looked to his organ, then looked back to the velvet curtains which concealed her bed chamber.

As Kristen was drifting to sleep, she could hear the faint sound of the organ, playing the softest music, soft enough to be a lullaby.

**A/N: Thanks to my most loyal reviewer, L2C, I did go back and make some corrections. You see, i've been away so long that the moment I got back to the computer, I began pouring my heart out into the next chapter of the story, and I must have been too occupied with getting it up for you to read that I forgot to check it over, (And there are some keys on my keyboard that don't work unless you push them hard, grrrrr,) Thank you so much for telling me about the mistakes... keep doing it in the future, I know that i'm rather clumsy when it comes to making things perfect :p, I've always been a bit loving towards things that were less than perfect. Hugs Phantom**


	10. Wishes

**A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing, you're the ones who inspire me to continue forward. I would also like to thank L2C for pointing out my errors, if you find any more, keep telling me. You can e-mail me at I'd love to hear from my readers... if i'm not too greedy in asking :p. Please keep reviewing, there is nothing more important :)**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters. (I wonder how much it costs to buy the Phantom :p)**

Chapter 10: Wishes

All was silent. Erik had spent the past three or four hours sitting before his organ, scribbling out the music which filled his soul. He had never been so inspired. He could still feel the touch of Kristen's hand upon his marred face, though it chanced hours before. He was never more sure in his life that he didn't deserve what was given to him. He didn't deserve Kristen Verlaine, that strange and captivated girl. His own mother couldn't find it within herself to show him the slightest bit of love, and now he was the lure of this girl's imagination?

Suddenly the song which he was composing grew to a monstrous rage. He tried to stifle the thought that perhaps she saw him the same way others had seen him in that freak show... a public display, something to be wondered about. But she hadn't "seen" him. He stopped his writing, his beautiful creating... it would have to wait for later. She was freighting his mind again... he would not surrender.

Now it was not the treble and bass which would endure the pressure of his angry writing utensil, but large sheets of blank scroll. Those bastards in the upper theater would be planning the reconstruction of the Populaire, those fools! he thought. They could never comprehend the complexity of a place like this... he just knew they would make a dupe's job of repairing it. Without any further delay he began to map out the blueprints to the places which were ruined by the fire... the fire which was his fault. Perhaps it was all a blessing in disguise, he contemplated. The fire had ruined his "domain" yes, but it had brought him Kristen... it had sent Raoul away, it had made a total mess of Firmin and Armande's careers. He had to grin at that. Once a nasty magician, always a nasty magician.

He stopped his drawing, if only for a moment, and cursed the content of his first thought.

These blueprints would not make the theater into the same building it was in previous years. Some things would definitely have to change. The quill pen glided over the paper as if there were dotted lines to follow, he was as skilled with his architecture as he was with his compositions. The capacity of the audience would be increased... the stage would be significantly improved. These, however, were mere necessities. These parts were the first to be touched on, because he was saving the most important for the latter.

He could almost feel the excitement boil within him as he began to create the next series of secret passages. The Phantom would have more accessible routes than ever, he thought with giddy revenge. He didn't know the feeling of being a child on Christmas Eve, so he merely compared these moments to the beatitude he felt upon first discovering music. This was the only chance he would ever have to improve his opera house, and all his emotions, love, and sadness would be poured into this like nothing else before.

Madame Giry scolded her daughter. "I told you never to be out in this part of the theater!" she chastised. "It is in disrepair and it is far too dangerous! Why in God's name are you not in the dormitories with the other dancers going over the next script?"

Meg Giry looked to the floor. She always grew extremely nervous over her mother's punishment. She could be such a frightening woman when she was indignant. "Maman, I'm sorry, I was trying to... I was only..."

"Spit it out Meg, I haven't all day to stand and listen to you stutter."

"Kristen has been missing for days Maman, I am so worried for her... the poor girl, she cannot even see. What if_he _has her?" The moment the words escaped her mouth, she realized she had said the wrong things. Her mother grew pale at her insinuation, and grasped the young ballerina by the wrist with a continued punishment.

"Meg, you will not look for the girl any longer. If no one has found her yet, she will have not survived.

Meg snatched her hand away, "How can you be so cold?" she blared. Her mother sighed in frustration.

"I am not being cold Meg, you are being unreasonable. You have been far too shielded from the world as it is, you do not know when to make the right decisions. It is a fool's errand to run around trying to make things right. Bad things happen and they cannot be doctored. Your main focus is not to find the blind girl, Meg, your goal right now is to practice your dancing. You will have a sorry future if you fail now.

Meg walked away from her mother filled with sorrow and disbelief. She had nothing left to say to her. She had never known her mother to be so cruel. She had felt deeply for Kristen the moment she arrived at the Paris Opera House, and she regretted deeply that her mother simply brushed her off as someone who could not be helped.

Madame Giry watched her daughter disappear into the shadowed corridor. She repented greatly that her daughter had grown up amongst the fairy tales of the Opera. Meg was clearly ignorant with her stance on the line that separated the real world from the fictional. Giry knew that Kristen was either rescued, or dead, but she could not worry on that unless she was given the opportunity to aid. Her funds were on an all time low. She could scarcely afford to put food on the table for herself and her daughter, and to top it all off, Armande and Firmin were two very mad men growing angrier by the minute.

The ballet mistress walked nervously throughout the main theater. The very site of the destroyed auditorium could have made her cry. She was a very strong woman, but she had spent many years of her long life in that building, it was truly heartbreaking to witness such destruction. What was she going to do? What in the burning fires of hell was she going to do? It was hopeless... completely -

"They will rebuild the Populaire the way I want them to, or they will not rebuilt the Populaire at all"

Madame Giry recognized that deep threat, that musical voice. It was none other than the very master mind himself. She looked up into the shadows, when she saw the scrolls fall from the darkness, as if appearing out of no where, as his little messages had always seemed to do before.

"IS THIS HOW IT IS GOING TO BE FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES?" She yelled out, producing a thundering echo. "WILL YOU CONTINUE TO TORMENT THE LIVES OF THE INNOCENT?"

She stormed towards the scrolls and retrieved them from the dusty floor. "Erik! Show yourself to me! I will tell them of your existence if you do not" she threatened. Then the most frightening, evil laughter she had ever heard coming from a man in her life, flooded her ears.

"You think your petty threats will effect me in the least? You forget your position, Madame. If you refuse to comply with my demands, I will have to see to it that the Populaire never regains it's glory. This is my theater, and you _will_ obey." His voice was like a slithering silk, filling the air around her, coming from no given direction. She paled considerably at his wickedness, knowing full well that he could cause her extreme harm, along with anyone else whom did not obey him.

She opened the scrolls to discover that they were in fact, blueprints. These were so complex she could hardly understand them. They were the sort of instructions to be followed by experts, not a ballet mistress, such as herself.

"Erik, this is not what the Populaire looked like. What are you doing?" She asked.

"Have them delivered to the managers. If they refuse to obey my commands, the Populaire will stand no longer."

"But Erik..." Madame Giry stated, before she felt the room grow empty. He was gone, that was for sure. When she was alone he always made his presence known to her, but he rarely allowed her to see him when he was doing the approaching. She placed a shaky hand to her forehead. This feeling was all too familiar. The Opera Ghost continued to haunt! She sighed. It would have to be done. They would have to find the money to hire such experts. She would not see the Populaire fall into ruin.

Erik knew perhaps he had been a bit dark in voicing his demands, but could he help it? He still felt so betrayed by the woman who allowed that filfthy Raoul to descend into his home and steal his intended bride. How would he forget that? how?

Kristen fell into a weary state as she approached waking up. The silk sheets of the bed which he had given her were so inviting, she felt that she would not have been able to leave them even if she was in full physical capability. Before, when she was able to see, the sun had always given her reason to jump out of bed and enjoy another day... but now that she would never againlook upon it's golden rays, she would forever face the damnation of praying to be left alone in the morning. At this thought she had to wonder what time it was.

"Erik?" she asked, when she heard not a sound. The lair was silent, the only noise audible was that of the water, delicately dripping at a steady pace, in the distance. She obtained no answer. He must have left again. She sat up in bed, and frowned upon realizing that something had changed.

Her bandages were tighter. Her jaw dropped in the realization that he must have taken the care to change them while she slept... how did he manage that? to handle her paining wounds so, without waking her. Magic... he was all magic. She did, however, realize that upon sitting up, she did not face the same surge of distress she had felt in previous days. She was beginning to heal! Oh how she thanked God for that. For a while she worried she would perhaps grow infected, and die some agonizing death.

Along with the bandages, she was dressed in the loveliest fabric. It was a gown, it's colour she would never know, but it seemed to fit her as if it was tailored for her. Feelings of guilt started to flow through her mind. He couldn't have spent money on her... could he have? Oh Erik... she thought.

She reached out to touch her ankle. The bandages there had been changed as well. Oh he was a demon! She thought. A nasty littletwo horned demon. How could he do these things without telling her first? Though she hardly felt invaded... not after the way the doctor's had treated her injuries... with their hands made of evil. Erik would have made a far better doctor than any of those idiots, she almost began to wish it was him who had been the doctor who changed the bandages to her burn scars, and not those fools, if he could change her binds without even waking her!

But where was he now? Gone again, she supposed. She was beginning to grow used to the idea of being left alone, she was finally feeling safe again. Nothing had warmed her like his music... and his embrace. Her thoughts traveled back to that moment of comfort, and instantly she fell back into the cozy cushions of which the bed was made. She felt so incredibly feeble-minded. It would be unwise to develop feelings for a Phantom, she chuckled at herself bitterly. She remembered the way her heart had fluttered over that idiotic boy from her home town... that Nicholas, that betraying... monster! The very memory of him made her want to smash something against the wall, but the only things within her grasp were the sheets and the pillows... wouldn't that make for a horrific scene, Erik returning to find her scattering feathers everywhere.

She quickly came to her senses, she did not have feelings for the Phantom! Oh how wonderful it felt to be held like that.that. Was her conclusion correct? Or was her heart, and her mind stillbattling furiously against each other?

Suddenly, as if she were a cat hearing the first call if it's enemy, she jolted back to a sitting position. Footsteps were the stuff of her hearings, but so unfamiliar they were. She could do nothing but sit still, and wait for the realization that these sounds were all in her strange imagination, but she could feel her heart begin to pound the blood through her body faster than it was intended. They drew closer. They could not have been Erik's. He moved gracefully, swiftly, as if he knew every off angled obstacle of the stone lair by heart. This invader was obviously new to the under grounds.

She tried with all her courage not to panic, and just when it seemed she could go no longer, she was brought back to a sense of relief. That was the breath of a woman, which she heard. The delicate breath of a young woman, and she almost recognized it.

"Who is there?" She called out, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and allowing all her weight to be pressed upon her good foot. When she placed her injured foot to the ground, she felt the familiar pain, only lighter now. How happy she was that she was beginning to heal. She remembered the direction that Erik had led her in. She felt her way, though limping a great deal, to the entrance of her room, and listened out into the murky dungeon.

"HELLO?" She called.

"Kristen! Oh Kristen. Oh thank God, thank God, thank God!" The childish voice cheered, running on uneven ground to squish her within her feminine little arms. It was Meg. Kristen knew the moment she heard the ballerina's voice that it was her old friend.

"Oh, Meg, please. I am injured, please let go!" she begged, and heard her friend sigh with such relief.

"Kristen. I thought you were dead! What has happened to you and how did you end up here? Oh please, you must tell me everything! everything!" She was about to say more, but she shut herself up for a moment to redirect the content of her speech. "We must leave here, Kristen. Please, follow me. I've found an easy passage from this disgusting place! You'll never have to spend another moment in this confinement. I can't believe he would hold you captive after the whole Christine affair."

Kristen was truly stunned. Held captive? hardly!

"Oh Meg, you've got it all wrong. I was not kidnapped, and I'm not being held prisoner here. I was rescued, not imprisoned... If it were not for him I would be dead. Meg gasped.

"Him... the Phantom?" she asked. "Oh Kristen, please tell me you do not still obsess over that crazed lunatic! Please tell me you do not plan to stay here?"

"I cannot leave now, Meg, I can barely walk, and..." Kristen turned her back to Meg, and stumbled back through the velvet curtains, towardsher bed. She sat down in a very calm demeanor.

Meg was astounded. "How can you live like this? in a cellar, a stone cellar! I can hardly see you it is so dark. Please tell me you are still sane!"

"If you can believe it Meg, I don't think I would be very joyous upon leaving this place. And what kind of light do you think I need Meg, I'm blind remember!"

"Oh I knew it" Meg said, entering the room and sitting beside Kristen. "You're obsessed! I told you not to fascinate over him... I warned you Kristen, I..."

"I am not obsessed" She argued, "But if you could see how kind he is, how compassionate. I've never met a man so complex. He is not a Phantom, Meg... he is not a monster to be feared."

"This coming from a blind girl" Meg said absentmindedly. She was always a bit foolish where words were concerned. "You have not the ability to see his ugliness. He is truly frightening."

Kristen gave Meg a horrid expression upon these harsh remarks. "How can you! How can you be so mean? You can't thrash a person because they aren't perfect!... And I have seen his face."

"But how? you cannot see at all" Meg asked curiously.

"I've touched his face." Kristen replied with a shy smile, "He is truly different"

"And you like that?" Young Meg was horrified.

"I don't think it's fair that he was born with such marks, but... Have you heard his music? have you heard him speak? he's amazing Meg, never was there ever a man so amazing"

"No, Kristen, I haven't." Meg replied. She was astonished. Kristen, such a lovely girl, in the thrall of the Phantom. "You must understand, it is not you who wishes to stay here, it is his music that enslaves you. Christine wrote to me not too long ago, she told me everything."

Kristen's heart began to pound. Meg knew the whole ordeal, and the information was now so accessible to her.

"Christine told me..."

"Shut up Meg, I don't want to know" Kristen quickly interrupted. Meg frowned,

"But why?" she asked, "Haven't you been the slightest bit curious on these facts? since becoming... enthralled?" she mocked. Kristen now realized that Meg was ridiculing her, but that couldn't be helped. Meg was always a bit immature.

"I have wondered. But he would not tell me. He doesn't want me to know, so... don't tell me" she stated firmly. "I know that Christine Daae did something terrible to him, I don't think I could bear to hear it from him either."

"You speak as if you are in love." Meg accused.

"No, I don't think you understand. He saved my life, and he's been so kind. How can I bear to see him in such misery? But I will not know the things he does not wish me to know. I will give him that small victory."

"Very well." Meg replied. "But, are you sure you want to stay here? I mean, what happens if you heal, and he doesn't set you free?" She asked.

"He's already told me that when I am fully recovered he will allow me to... go" she said. Why did those words have such a bad reaction within her? She could imagine herself every day in the future, wishing for one more song... for one more embrace. Letting go would be one of the hardest things she would ever learn to do.

Both Meg and Kristen jumped in their skin as they were greeted by a tall dark figure standing in the fabric doorway.

That voice was as dark as the voice which had stolen her from her dreams that night.

In a dark, and hissing whisper...

"What is she doing here?"


	11. Breaking Through the Pain

**A/N: Wow, I wanted to post this chapter yesterday, but my computer just would not cooperate. God help me if I'm the only one who's ever felt this way! Any way, some of your questions may be answered in this chapter, Please review, I want to know if you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters. (Oh but how much fun I could have in the world if I did!)**

Chapter 11:

Now Kristen wished he would have walked in on her slamming a pillow against the wall. She could not see Meg's face, but she knew by the way the poor ballerina was breathing that she was as nervous as could be.

"What... are you doing here?" His voice was now directed to the young girl, and he stepped into the pale light. As she looked upon this man, clad from head to toe in an elegant black, with his mask contrasting heavily with his attire, within her grew a horror she could not have described in a million years. She could not stop her hands from shaking, or her brow from lifting in fear, they were reactions beyond her control.

"I..." She swallowed deeply, she felt as if her throat was closing. The very sight of him stirred within her a panic she had only tasted upon knowing of Buquet's death, and upon seeing Christine disappear from the stage. All of those memories flooded back with this new image, this dark shadow with that porcelain white mask.

"Erik, please don't hurt her" Kristen said, standing slowly from the bed. "She was only worried about me, she has caused me no harm, and she will cause no harm to you either."

Erik recognized the pleading in her voice. She obviously cared about this girl, however fatuous Meg might be. How anyone could tolerate such a gossip queen was beyond him. He could imagine her returning to the surface to tell everyone that the Phantom is alive and that he's captured Kristen Verlaine. It entered his thoughts for a moment that perhaps he should not allow her to return, but that would only cause havoc where Madame Giry was concerned. The last thing he needed was Antoinette at his throat for the return of her daughter, and he didn't like the thought of keeping such a silly little twit in his quarters to begin with.

"Please, sir." Meg pleaded. "I just wanted to make sure she was ok... "

"You can stand" Erik had nearly forgotten the little rat at the sight of Kristen on her own two feet without assistance. In his voice, Meg recognized a heavy relief, and care.

"Yes, I can stand." she replied softly. It was then that Megnoticed just whatKristen was wearing. The greatest gown she had ever seen in her entire life. It was a magnificent dark green, with the most bewitching of decorations at the bodice. The very site of the gown conjured thoughts of mysticism and charm, the straps at her shoulders held together with two very gorgeous looking stones, her graceful arms left bare, the dark fabric reaching the floor around her feet. Certainly Kristen had not come upon this gown on her own. He had given it to her.

"She cannot stay" Erik said, his voicedescending to a less threatening intonation.

"No, she cannot" Kristen replied quietly. Meg just watched bewildered. Kristen could show emotion through her blind eyes! and her demeanor was of pure calm joy. She seemed to repeat everything the Phantom was saying... as if her mind was so full of thought towards this frightening man, that words refused to come from her? But Kristen hardly seemed frightened, but then again, when had Kristen ever seemed frightened at the idea of the Opera Ghost?

And the look she saw from him was not pleasant either, to her anyway. He was caring towards her, Kristen had been right in her words. He seemed happy that she could stand, that she was healing, and yet, never did that sadness leave his eyes. It was his neutral emotion, it would never... ever leave.

"I will leave," Meg said nervously, "I promise not to intrude again. I just... I just wanted to make sure she was ok." She was still quite frightened at him, and Erik realized that.

After a long and somewhat disturbing silence, the Phantom made his decision about what should be done with the little ballet rat. "Go" he said, "Leave now, and tell no one." his voice was a whisper as he held the curtain for her to leave. She indeed fled the room, and left the dungeon afterward.

Kristen was amazed. He had let her go free, with no talk of agreements or negotiations. "Erik, that was very kind." she declared with soft astonishment. Never could she imagine he would allow that to happen.

Erik stood, and just watched her. She was so beautiful, the gown he had given her did little to hide that. He had to avert his eyes, he could not continue to look upon her this way, but how could he help it? He sighed a painful sigh, and turned to exit the bedchamber. Kristen's heart sank within her chest. She heard his expression of anguish, and never could she have imagined that a sound could seem so sad.

"Erik..?" she called, hearing him leave. He moved out into the main area of his lair, however quiet he kept his breaths of melancholy, her ears easily picked up on them. She willed herself to move on the ankle which caused her pain, it did not seem so painful any more, and what was on her mind was far more important than what was happening at her ankle. She left the room as well, feeling the velvet curtain at the doorway brush against her fair cheek.

Meg had been so afraid. Trembling as if her life was about to end. This was why he had hidden from the world his whole life... this was why he wore the mask and this was why he was destined to live his life alone. He collapsed before the organ, fell to sit on the bench with obvious affliction. To know these things was as heartbreaking as Christine's rejection had been. It was another moment to him, of knowing that he was doomed to dwell in shadow forever. Tears streamed down his masked face, from eyes which seemed to be ablaze. His sobs were becoming evident, and Kristen could not will herself to stand still and simply listen.

She stepped over the first obstacle of the uneven stone floor, and realized that she remembered what the next step was to be. Patterns were always easily imprinted in her mind, she forgot things very rarely. She knew he was at the organ, she had heard the bench's legs slightly scrape against the floor as he sat, but he played nothing, he only wept. She moved with great caution over the ridges of the floor, until finally, she loomed over him, in her gorgeous emerald gown, her hands folded together at her abdomen.

"Erik..." she whispered. He could not bare to look up at her. His heart was broken again, he could not look upon the next lovely young woman that would leave him there alone. His pain was a mix of knowing that Meg had been utterly appalled upon seeing him... but somewhere within his heart he knew that when he saw Kristen stand like that, he saw her walking away from him.

"Why are you crying?" Kristen asked softly, it broke her heart to hear his sobs. Her brow lifted in a worried expression. He did not answer, he couldn't answer. Any words would have been choked on. It was only with his greatest strength that he could withhold full crying. She knew he was feeling something terrible, but to what extent, she could not even begin to comprehend.

The candles in the cellar were slowly burning out. The two had remained where they were together for the longest time, in silence. The whole atmosphere seemed to be riddled with sadness, it seemed to be made of pain. Kristen could still not get it out of her mind that he had allowed Meg to leave so freely. As she stood before him, her thoughts were a mass of contradictions and gladness. He had made Meg leave, but Kristen was not plagued with the same obligation. She could stand now, and she could walk, but he did not ask her to leave. On some strange level, she felt somehow important. Important to him.

"Erik, what's wrong? Please don't hold more from me. You will feel better when you let it all go. Please tell me... let me help you." She begged.

"What help could you possibly grant me?" He asked her, looking up into her beautiful features. "What help? Kristen... you were right, I am completely helpless."

"I don't understand... " Kristen said softly. Now she proceeded to dare something she could not have even imagined ever doing. She knelt down, and sat on the very bench which he sat, beside him. Her heart raced, but upon receiving no reaction to her gesture, she quickly calmed.

"Christine... left me" he said to her. "That night, she left with Raoul de Chagny, and I never saw her again." There it was, the truth of the matter had just entered her ears, and she was paralyzed with a sudden, greater sadness. She knew all along that something like this had happened, but to hear it from him, straight from his mouth, in that beautiful voice he was always capable of projecting... it was truly amazing in a very dispirited way.

"You loved her..." Kristen said, lowering her head in woe, "I'm so sorry that had to happen to you. No one should go through that kind of pain. Who was this Raoul de Chagny?"

"Christine's childhood friend." he replied to her, lowering his head and covering his face with his hands. "I never saw her again... I will never see her again. I loved her." He felt a hand come to his shoulder, he knew it was hers. Her touch was always so gentle, always so careful and loving.

"Meg was so afraid" He said. "She was so afraid, you should have seen the terrified expression she presented to me."

"Meg is an immature little ballet dancer... She doesn't know how to hold her tongue, you must know that."

"Kristen, you are healing." He said with worry now to add to his tone. Kristen heard the words he spoke and she began to realize... this may be more serious than she had at first anticipated. "In no more than a week you willbe fine. You'll be fine, and no doubt Meg... or her deceiving wretch of amother would be back to collecther guest of honor. When you first came to the Opera house, my sweet Kristen, I didn't know how anyone could allow someone who has no connection to the Opera, to stay here. I didn't want you here, and I tried to make you leave, but you somehow had the courage to argue through my threats. I've never seen that before. Everyone has cowered from me... everyone. I have never known love, the world has been cruel to me... but not you. Now... you're getting better, you're healing, and soon I know that you will ascend into the light of day, and leave me here in shadow."

Kristen was speechless. She had not known him long, but just long enough to be able to take what he was saying seriously. His words had brought tears to her eyes, evident tears. She could have never dreamed of having such an affect on him. She closed her broken eyes, letting her tears fall over her lovely face. For the most part, she had difficulty believing that Christine Daae could have left Erik in the cold like that...for some friend of hers. She realized now that what Erik was afraid of, was being left alone again.

She took her hand from his shoulder, and allowed it to fold with the other in her lap. He had promised her she could leave, he was holding no more prisoners.

"Erik... I think, that... Christine was wrong to be so cold." She whispered.

Erik couldn't understand how he had just allowed himself to confess everything to her. He felt her withdraw her hand, and he knew it was a gesture to create comfort, but ending it seemed to be a symbol that this was going to take the same turn aslife always did for him. He could just see himself, returning to his old ways, watching over the rehearsals, sending notes to the managers, living this sorry life that wasmade only for a man with such a cursed face. The most tragic part to his prediction, was that his lair would no longer be occupied with any other but himself.

With these thoughts, he stood.  
"It is no one's fault that my appearance is unbearable to be seen. I only asked to be loved... I only asked for the slightest bit of compassion. It scares me Kristen, that I am going to die this way... in this hole, and no one will know that I am gone. No one will remember me."

She was now disbelieving. Everything he was saying to her was too much for her to handle. Fierce tears were rolling down her cheeks. The fate he spoke of was truly frightening, and it was only a prediction. But she could see that he truly believed in these heinous forecasts, and it almost scared her to hear such outlooks. She covered her mouth, because she could feel herself beginning to sob. However extreme his thoughts were, they touched her somewhere deep down inside. She remembered Nicholas, and she remembered the feeling of losing him forever.

"Certainly I will have no children to remember me, and no wife to care for. I have only had you Kristen, the greatest friendship I shall ever know, and I'm about to lose it. Can you understand now?" he asked under heavy distress. "Can you see now why my life is a path of endless sadness and solitude?"

Kristen moved from the bench, standing slowly on her injured foot, and her good foot. Her face was stained with tears.

"Erik, how can you talk like this? How can you believe..."

"Because it is true. It is true... all of it. I was born to live... and die alone" As he spoke these words, he had to kneel to the floor. He could no longer stand straight at thepain which was torturing him. This doom. When he thought of children, so innocent and unconditionally loving, he wished sometimes to know what it was like to be a father, even if only for a moment in time. When he returned to the horrid truth that he would never be given such wonder, death seemed to him like the only way to stop the despondency. Somehow he managed to live this way for as many years as he did, alone... but he was growing used to haveing her in his lair. He would surely die, if his heart was broken yet another time.

Kristen stood beside the organ, the candles which had been lit were quickly diminishing, and leaving them in a darkness that only he could rightfully see.

"Erik..." Kristen sniffled back the tears. She felt as if she herself was the one going through the pain which he was feeling. She was sobbing at his words. How could any man truly believe that he was not good enough to be a father, or a husband? It was almost as if she were in his shoes the way she was beginning to cry.

Upon seeing her grow distressed, Erik rose from the floor, and walked over to her with some speed.

"You will not be sad for me, do you understand?" he asked her, taking her shoulders into his warm graceful hands. He never wanted her to pity him, and now,with the capability of admitting to himself that she truly meant a lot to him, he could not allow her to be inhardship over the curse which he was meant to endure."This is my fate, and my fate alone. I will not allowit to hurt you. God in heaven, whom has willed this illfate upon me, may be the only one who knows that you are the greatest woman who ever lived, to be able to show such kindness to a monster such as I. I wish that you would never leave, but I know that you will want to... I know that you cannot live in such a place as this. This place was made for a monster, not a queen."

Kristen inhaled deeply at the sensation of his hands on her shoulders. As if he were playing another piece of glorious music, she seemed to fall into his touch, she seemed to be consumed by his care. As his words entered her mind, she realized that he was falling somewhere far. She wanted to help him, she wanted to save him, but how? She was not capable of such courage the way he said she was.

She still could not will herself to believe that he was so self loathing. When she was around him the very thought of loathing any part of him was absolutely non-existant.Every man deserved to love, and be loved, and certainly every man deserved to father a child. In her stubborn beliefs, she knew this was not fair, it was simply not fair. How could God allow such horrid things to befall one man alone?

"You will be happy" She told him, allowing her hand to softly touch the unmasked portion of his face. "You will have everything you think will never be given to you."

"You don't know what you are saying." he returned, false hope was a deadly thing, it was a driving force whichcould never mean anything more than defeat... and possibly death. "Do not say these things to me,Kristen,they are not true" He seemed to press into her palm, as if it were the very last time he would ever feel the touch of another.

She sniffed delicately, she had probably never cried this much inside, let aloneshow it."You will be happy" she told him again, in a soft whisper, as tears fell from her eyes. Before he could respond to her words, he felt her move towards him, as she advanced to place a single kiss upon his lips.  
It was not a deep kiss, that passionate lovers would make. It was the kiss of a woman whom had never expressed love to another, and was veryshy upon doing so, and he could never have prepared for it.

He couldn't understand the feelings that were surging through him. The shock that his heart seemed to endure, and the way it seemed to travel throughout his entire being, as if she was a bolt of lightning, plaguing him with her power. Once before he had been kissed, but he had known that first time, that it was a kiss to save the lives of others... not to show him any kind of affection. This was different. This was pure, it was honest, loving, and true, and it was Kristen.


	12. Heartwarming Embraces

**A/N:Well, I'm not getting as many reviews as I'd prefer, but I am truly grateful to those who are reviewing, you guys are the greatest. However, all of you readers and non-reviewers out there (I am truly vein in saying this, because I do not know how many people are actually reading), you are lucky that I am an obsessive writer, and that I do not threaten to hold off updates until I get more reviews, unlike some other annoying authors I know of. If you start a story... you should finish it! Any way, Please review, even the smallest review would greatly please me :)**

**Disclaimer: La dee Dah dee Dah, I don't own Phantom, or Phantom characters. (Unfortunately)**

When her lips left his, she felt his hand come to her face, and she could hear the disbelief in his breath, but there was no remorse, and no regret. She was greatly relieved that she had gotten away with that, because it honestly took her a great deal of time before she actually obtained that sort of courage. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to hold him and make all his nightmares go away, but what if he did not want that from her? But, Kristen was never one to throw away opportunity, and since surviving both fires and blindness, she had learned to live every moment as if it were her last

"Kristen, what..." almost whispering, he wanted to ask her, what on earth she was possibly thinking. It must have all been a dream, it must have been. His breath was heavy,that kiss, itwas so unexpected.

Her hand placed itself over his as he touched her, and she just wished she could see him. She longed to lay eyes upon this man.

"Your fears are... well... they're terrible." Kristen said in a trembling voice, wiping away her tears only to allow fresh ones to flow. It occurred to her then that she wasn't only sad for him... she was afraid for him. She was scared to death of his predictions, as if he predicted them for her. There must have been a deeper connection than she though between his fears and her locked away feelings.

"You didn't have to do that" he told her, gently outlining the tiny scars on her brow with his thumb. She allowed this affection, she couldn't reject his touch, even if she had wanted to.

"No, I didn't" she replied quietly. "I... wanted to" he withdrew his hand from her beautiful face. "I don't have to leave... Erik. I don't have to leave. I can stay... I can... be here. I don't have anywhere else to..."

"You don't realize what you are doing to your future by saying these things." he voiced. "You're destroying every chance you have of being a part of this world... I cannot allow that to happen to you, Kristen, I can't make you my companion shadow."

Kristen's eyes grew wide, "Where will I go? You cannot just cast me aside! If you say you care about me so?" She said worriedly, "Where will I go? back up into the opera house? Does it make a difference whether I am here or five stories above? Does it?" she asked, her voice grew with a hint of anger. Erik watched her as she became enraged, he admired her so for that. "You cannot continue to torture yourself Erik! You tell me you are frightened to death of me leaving, but you allow it anyway! What is wrong with you?" She turned from him, "You're impossible... You're completely... Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to leave?" She then faced him again, though the fact that she was angered created a bit of a problem where facing him directly was concerned. For all she knew she could have been gaping at a wall.

"I have no where to go. I don't want to go back to that place in the country if I cannot look upon everything I once knew. I do not want to return to the dormitories so that Meg can nag me with her little stories about all the other girls... and about their personal business! I've never had such piece, as I have here. I'm blind and I'm in darkness, I _can't_ be apart of this world any more! Don't you understand?"

She moved towards him, taking a severe chance in this. She didn't really know where he was standing, but she did in fact feel his presence. She could hear his breath. When she got close enough, she pushed him a bit, "You're evil!" she said. "You want me to stay, but you don't? I want to stay Erik... let me stay, please?"

He watched her. How childish had that been? She pushed him, somehowit was the funniest thing he had everwitnessed come out of her. She was certainly not like the dull women he had seen in his life... there was a fire within her, few women possessed that.

He just stood and looked down to her as she was, her eyes wide pools of sadness, rage, and worry. He could never in a million years stand to see her this way, so distressed. He knew that he could not turn her away, he rememberedthepain he felt whenChristine had turned him away, he could not be so cruel to this poor girl.

"Then,I hope you will be happy here." he said, "With me."

"Erik," She said happily, and basically fell into his arms. He still could not believe that she wanted to stay. She really couldn't see the dark nature of the lair, if she could have, perhaps she would have been as frightened as Meg was, and as frightened at the sight of him as well

"You don't know how much this means to me" she said, holding to him closely. He stroked her hair gently, and closed his eyes. It was more powerful than any wish he'd ever made,ofcoursenone of his wishes came true, in fact most of them blew up in his face

"But you're still evil" She said, her chin on his shoulder. When she got no reply from this comment, she figured he probably took her seriously. "How did you manage to replace my bandages without waking me. You didn't give me morphine, did you?"

"Of course not." he said quietly. "You're just a heavy sleeper"

"Oh I am not and you know it"

"I'm really glad you're healing." he said.

"Me too," She replied, "I was afraid for a while that I wouldn't."

"So was I" he whispered to her, and just held her closely. Whatever that kiss had meant, he would forever remember it. Beautiful young Kristen, his one and only friend.

"MAMAN! oh Maman!" Meg knew she was not to tell anyone, but she couldn't just leave poor Kristen down there in that dungeon, with that Phantom... that murderer.

Madame Giry was standing in the manager's office with both M. Armande and M. Firmin, wearing that same black dress, her hair up in that familiar bun. The atmosphere was that of frustration.

"We must use these" Antoinette argued, as Armande looked furiously at the blueprints. "You know what will happen if we do not" She then turned to her daughter.

"Meg, what is wrong?" she asked, she knew the situation with these managers could only get worse, and she would not take out her anger on her daughter because these idiots were not agreeing to certain... demands.

"Maman, you must come with me, it is important."

"How important?" Giry asked,

"Very important" she replied, and beckoned her mother to leave the office. "And it is private! I must speak with you privately!" She added, when she saw Armande and Firmin begin to take interest in the ballerina's blabbering.

"Very well" She said, then turned to the managers, "You must obey, sirs, or there will be nothing left to build." She then turned her back to them, and walked out of the office, following young Meg.

"This better be urgent, otherwise you will have interrupted a very important matter."

"It's about Kristen, Maman!" Meg swallowed hard, "He has her, the phantom has her!"

Madame Giry grew pale, and unusually quiet. "How can you know this?" she asked, "How can you possibly know something like that?"

"I was there! I couldn't help it Maman, I just had to find her."

"So you went to his lair?" she interrogated

"I know I should not have... but he's got her down there. She told me she doesn't want to leave but she must be under one of his spells! She must be! The same kind that he had Christine under!"

Antoinette closed her eyes. Oh this was horrible. She had known something like this was going to happen the moment that young woman showed up at the Populaire. That stupid doctor should never have brought her there.

"Thank you Meg, run along... I will take care of it."

"What are you going to do?" Meg asked.

"Do not concern yourself with this any more. You have done all that you can do, and it will be taken care of. You may go now... Go practice." Meg nodded somewhat worriedly, and headed off into the direction of the unharmed dormitories.

Antoinette stood still for quite a few moments before she could get into her mind just what should be done. No one could know about this. The Opera Ghost was such a horrid man, but she could not allow them to hunt him down. She felt horrible that she had done to him what she did that night, but it was in Christine's best interest, not Erik's. And now this was Kristen's confinement, but it would not be a vicious search party who would storm into the darkness of his home, it would be her, and her alone.

"You're a genius, Erik." Kristen stated in pure awe, as she wiped tears from her eyes. She had begged him to play for her once more, as she had never heard any sound more beautiful than the music he created. The song had been written years ago, it was a piece he swore he would never let another living creature hear the likes of. Written back when the Opera house was animated with performances and rehearsals, back when his home was the deepest circle of hell.

"You bestow upon me too much credit," he responded. His music was his only way of really showing emotion, but never did he truly consider himself a genius. Kristen smiled lightly to herself. She felt safe again, here in the dungeons below the Populaire, with her Phantom to watch over her. She had never felt safer with anyone else, not even with her parents as a child. That frightening anger which he showed her before only reassured her that any dangerous intruder would end up six feet below the ground if (s)he ever posed a threat. Though she had been afraid of that anger, he had promised never to show it towards her again... even though she knew that anger could sometimes not be prevented, she still felt safe, a warm and comfortable feeling.

"You are wrong" Kristen said, rising from the same couch which she had sat in before. "Everything about you fascinates me" she said, "Your music, your trickery as well. I wish you could tell me where you happened toobtain your skill, your talent."

Erik looked up at her from the bench to see the softest expression revealed in her damaged eyes. "That is a story for another day, Kristen" he said.

She felt her heart begin to jump within her. Since when had the sound of her own name excited her? Oh but his voice was beautiful, she thought. Her mind was flooded with the memory of feeling her lips against his, would those thoughts be the only contents of her mind from now on? She had never kissed a man before him, and it was amazing to her. But something was unclear in her mind. She had kissed him, he did not turn away, in fact, she could have sworn she felt him return her affection, however tiny the gesture. Where did they stand in terms of where they were with each other? He was caring towards her, and she was the same, but there had been no more affection like that since.

He began to play another melody for her, and she just listened intently. Well, perhaps it looked that way. She could not get it off her mind how much she longed to feel his lips against hers again. She had craved his touch ever since he first touched her, It was as if she was addicted to him, to something she had not yet splurged on. It was so confusing, so difficult to understand.

The song traveled through it's roller coaster of emotions, each time filling these thoughts of hers with more and more power. They had an affect on her, the same way he had an affect on her, and she found herself standing from where she sat. Her injured ankle did little to stop her from walking towards the organ, he could see her from the corner of his unmasked eye. As she closed the gap between then, the song he played grew slower. It was not the intended speed of the piece, but it was her approach which slowed the music. As she gradually moved to him, the song gradually slowed, until finally only it's echo remained in their underground world.

He stood from the bench and went to her. She whispered his name as his hands came once again to her shoulders, she knew he stood before her. She sighed out, as if something she wanted was out of her grasp, full of longing, and hunger.

"Kristen," he said, then he saw her eyes close slowly. The sight of her this way was breathtaking. She stood there beneath his touch, as if she begged for more. She was beginning to eat away at his soul, with every moment they were together he could feel her taking over more and more, he had to wonder if someday he would belong to her completely... she had no idea of this either. Her strength and her individuality had captivated him since that night he loomed above her bedroom, and witnessed her complaints.

"Will you hold me Erik?" She projected almost soundlessly. Every time she made one of these advances she became plagued with a nervous worry. Her requests might not always begranted, as bitter memories would prove. But it seemed that he always put her worries to rest. His arms came around her, and she was plunged into another warm embrace.

"You are amazingly gentle for a man who is labeled an Opera Ghost" She said sighing, her eyes closed, her lips spreading into a softhearted smile as she rested her head upon his chest. She could feel his chest moving with every breath he took, his warmth quickly blanketing her.

Nothing had ever felt more wonderful than having her in his arms. Having her there to hold, and knowing she was there to stay. She had managed to fight through his stubborn and somewhat idiotic sense of reason. If she would truly spend the rest of her life in his company, he would never again feel that the world was a cold place.

Everything around her seemed to become non existent. Even the fact that she was blind was no longer a problem. She felt so sated with his strong arms around her, when had it gotten this deep? There was no way she felt this much the first time he embraced her, she could feel it getting stronger with every physical interaction they shared. She lifted her head from his chest to face him, she knew they would have to become something... she just had to know that he was not another Nicholas, ready to turn her down for another... or the memory of another, in their case.

"I have to ask you something Erik," She said, her voice in a tone that expressed relief upon find the courage to say it. He looked down at her, their faces were so close they could have easily brushed lips.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

She sighed once more. This was going to take a great measure of strength, but never had anything seemed so important to her, than this did right now. "It is undeniable that we are ...intimate." She said. Now he realized that she was speaking of things different from what he was expecting of her.

"Kristen, if you are..."

"No, just listen." She softly interrupted. "I told you before that I am not leaving,"

Inlistening to her words, he was forced to jump to extreme conclusions. Was she taking back her decision to stay? He had to will that thought away, he could not bare any more pain, his heart was still too full of that ghastly sentiment.

"There is more to that than I was perhaps saying."

"And what are you trying to say?" He asked her quietly, in that deep seductive voice.

"I said that I don't want to leave... Erik, but what I am trying to say is that I never want to leave. I want to stay here with you, forever."

He frowned. Still he couldn't know the true origins of her speech. From her heart or from her mind, it was a painful puzzle to try and solve, when mind reading was not one of his talents. How could she mean those words? How could she possibly want to stay with him forever?

"You are here" he said, "You're here, I am allowing you to stay" he told her, continuing his pursuit in trying to figure her out.

"Am I here?" She asked, reaching for his hand and placing it to his own heart. "Am I here, in your heart? Would you have me?" Upon these words her voice began to shake. She truly feared his answer.

And now he finally understood, and was completely thunderstruck. She asked of his love, his heart. Storms of memories from the lonely years he'd spent seemed to surge back into his mind, forever haunting him with their pain. But here was a new pathway, a door he never knew would open. His eyes grew to an unreadable expression, she was asking him to love her?

"Say something," she whispered, gazing into her darkness. Her voice revealed that of true worry, she had to know, this could not wait, and the panic of anticipating a negative answer was quickly growing within her.

"Oh Kristen," He drew her to him and held her like never before, "I would have you... If that is what you are asking, I will, have you, if that is what you want..." She felt almost crushed but was completely accepting of this rough embrace.

"Let go of her!" another voice thundered from the walls of their lair. It was Madame Giry, and she was none too happy of what she was seeing. What she saw of their embrace, was that he was overpowering her, using her... making her his through the power he somehow wielded over young women.

"Madame Giry?" Kristen asked, letting go of the Phantom, and facing in the direction of the other woman's voice.

"Erik, you have kidnapped for the last time. When I get her out of here I am going to the police. You will have no more domination over this theater!"

Erik scowled instantly at the sight of this betraying woman. First she had led an entire party of stage hands withfatal intentions into his dwellings, also leading Raoul into the under grounds resulting in the loss of his angel of music, and now she was trying to steal away the one woman who willingly wanted to love him?

"What are you doing here?" Kristen asked, obviously confused at why this woman seemedso cross with Erik.

"She is here because of you, Antoinette" Erik hissed at Madame Giry, "You abandoned her so that you could deceive me, you have done more than enough harm on our parts, you may leave now!" he said, with a threatening verbalization.

"What you did to Christine was disgusting" Antoinette snapped. "And what you are doing to Kristen is no better."

"Madame Giry, I don't think you understand" Kristen stated firmly, "I was not kidnapped, I am here at my own free will."

"You are here because he has power over you, Kristen, the same power he had over Christine" Madame Giry stormed over to the two and grabbed Kristen by the wrist, "Come with me now before you do something you will seriously regret later, trust me, you will soon learn that this is all one big mistake!"

"Let go of me" Kristen hollered, and Erik said the same words in unison with her, "Let go of her."

But Madame Giry did not obey their wishes. She began to drag Kristen across the room, and towards the mirror passage that lead to the Rue Scribe.

"No Madame Giry, I don't want to leave!" Kristen dug her feet into the floor so as to prevent her from being pulled any further, but Madame Giry possessed a strength that was peculiar for her size. "Let go!" she cried, and then, just when it seemed that the situation could not possibly get any worse, the unthinkable happened. Somehow, between Madame Giry and Kristen's fight for control, Kristen's injured ankle managed to slam against an uneven ridge in the cold stone ground, and she slipped, falling to the floor, her head landing against yet anotherunfriendly stone. To Erik's horror, she did not get up.


	13. The Waking

**A/N: Oh I love you guys so much! You're so awesome for reviewing! I woke up thismorning and ran to my computer to start writing this chapter, and I found you all in my e-mail, thank you so much! I'm really glad that you're liking the story. I had to cut this chapter in half because it was going to be over 5000 words! eek, my computers too slow to download that much, so the next chapter should be up really really soon, for those of you who like fluff, I'm sure you'll like the next one. **

**Oh, yeah I know that it's a bit confusing where the scene switches are concern... I can't do HTML, i'm so computer illiterate. I live in the past you see, lol. If someone could tell me how to put a line on the screen, I would be very glad**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom or it's characters.**

"Kristen, Kristin! wake up, please wake up." Erik knelt over her lifeless body, tears trickling down his face.

"Do you see what you have done?" He looked up at Madame Giry with searing wrath. "Why can you not just leave me alone? Why must you always destroy any chance I have to be happy?  
Kristen, please don't do this to me, please don't leave."

Madame Giry was appalled with herself. She had gone down there with only the best of intentions, but she never intended to cause the girl harm. It seemed that no matter what, misfortune always had a way of following this poor girl everywhere.

Erik lifted Kristen's limp body from the ground, and held his ear to her chest. She was still breathing, but faintly. Her head had hit the stone with such force that she very well could have died, or could be dying. He would not survive her death, just when someone so marvelous had entered his life... now God was planning to take her away? He would surely die, no man could endure such a broken heart.

"Make yourself useful" Erik growled at Madame Giry, "Get her a doctor."

Madame Giry watched them with wonder. One moment he was worried and caring, the next moment he was a vengeful monster. Did he truly give his love to Kristen? So soon after Christine's disappearance?

"NOW!" Erik shouted, which made the elder woman jump to some extent. She quickly turned and left the lair, hurrying up through the mirror passage. When had she become such a meddling woman? Was there a part of her that desired his suffering? after all his unpleasant accomplishments at the Opera house? It was human nature to will revenge, but on a man who was only like this because of society's reaction to his differences? It didn't matter now! Kristen was in danger, she had to save her.

Erik carried her unconscious mass to the beautiful bed in which she had previously slept.

"Can you hear me, Kristen?" He asked, very gently putting her amongst the sheets of red and black silk. "You cannot die, do you hear me? You must survive this!"

She made not a movement. Completely oblivious of his words, she continued to lie unmoving. He took her hand delicately in his, and he wept for her. His mind was submerged in the memories he had of her. Her courage, her strength, the way she felt within his arms, and the strange shock waves she sent surging within him upon giving him that kiss. Such a short time they had with each other, how could it be ending now? Holding her hand to his heart, he knew, he would give his soul for her recuperation, he would give his soul, and everything else he had.

Madame Giry hurried from the Opera house. When Firmin had caught her along the way, exiting the rotunda, she simply told him that there was a crisis that had to be seen to. He also had the audacity to persist in inquiring about the blueprints, and when she shoved her foul mouthed answer at him, he was infuriated.

"You've never done this theater much good Firmin! Why don't you start now!"

She did not linger long enough to witness his yell of frustration. She was down the Parisian street faster than an the average carriage. The nearest doctor was not very close, but she knew her way, it would not take her long to find some unoccupied doctor to aid to Kristen's newest injury.

As Meg sat by her window, brooding over Kristen's kidnapping, she caught sight of her mother storming down the street, with her handbag. She only took that bag with her when she intended to buy something. But where was she going? The marketplace was not in that direction! The only thing she could think of was... oh no, she thought. She stood from the window seat, allowing the large bulk of script to the upcoming opera to fall recklessly to the floor.

"What must be going on?" She asked herself quietly, as she watched her mother disappear behind one of the many buildings in the surrounding area. She had just told Meg that she was going to take care of it, but where was Kristen now? and why was her mother storming from the Opera house? She would not wait to find out... she just had to know, as was the normal situation with the young ballerina. She fled her dormitory and rushed down the stairs with furious speed, towards the Chapel. Once inside, she descended down through the little known passageway that would lead to the dungeons below. None of the other dancers inquired about her absence, in fact, most were quite relieved. She was a very skilled dancer, many would love to see her leave the Opera for good.

She hurried through darkness, the only light she could see was the light which happened to escape through narrow cracks here and there, otherwise, it was a dark, damp, cob web beleaguered tunnel.

Erik could hear the tiny footsteps of the person approaching. Madame Giry had found a doctor so soon? Or was she returning to tell him that she had failed in her search? Just when he was on the verge of getting genuinely upset over this whole ordeal, he saw the young girl standing in the curtained doorway of the bedchamber. It was Meg. Hadn't she learned her lesson the first time she intruded upon this territory?

"Kristen!" Meg hurried over to her bedside, completely unaware of the Phantom whom occupied the other side of her current resting place, "Kristen, oh Kristen, what has happened to you?"

"Your mother tried to make her leave" Erik vented darkly. Meg gasped, startled. He had been completely consumed by shadow, how could she have possibly seen him?

Meg shook in her ballet dress at the very sight of him, but her worry for Kristen was somehow occupying her emotions to a point where her fear of him was not grand enough to send her running once more. She stayed with her friend, poor Kristen.

"Oh, how could this have happened? Kristen, please wake up!" She begged, her concern becoming visible as tears began to line her lower eyelids.

"The only way Antoinette would have known to come down here is if someone else told her of Kristen's residence. Meg, it was you who permitted this information to slip your foolish tongue, was it not?" he inquired coldly.

"I thought she was in danger, I could not bare to see her in danger." She sobbed. Erik could not really care that this feebleminded girl was there, he could not waste this precious time in scolding a ballet rat. He could only watch over Kristen, and hope she would be ok.

Meg was furious with her mother. In some ways, it was all Meg's fault in telling her mother this information, but her mother could have handled this much more maturely than trying to pull an unwilling blind woman from her whereabouts. Oh but it truly was her fault, how could she lay the blame on her blessed mother? her protector and instructor? Perhaps no one was to blame for this, and perhaps each of them could bear blame equally.

"He is here, I have brought you a doctor." Madame Giry said, quite out of breath. Meg's head snapped considerably in her mother's direction as she heard her voice enter the room. "This is Dr. Perdoux, Kristen will be familiar with him." She said. On their way to the lair, Madame Giry took liberty in explaining to this man that she had been right that it was wrong to allow Kristen to stay at the Opera. Basically, she was saying "I told you so," but her words were that of an instructor, as if chastising an ill mannered student.

Dr. Perdoux was completely dumbfounded at the notion of the Opera Ghost, and that he actually existed in flesh and blood. Since the fire, rumors of this mysterious being plagued Paris, and the rest of France, like the Black Death. He was dismayed at the sight of Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. After all the stories, here he was! The sight of his mask didn't really do much to frighten this doctor, in all his years of practice, he had probably witnessed more horror and disfigurement than whatever this unfortunate man hid behind that disguise.

"Can you help her?" Erik asked quietly, hoping that this man would say something in the positive.

"I don't know yet, only time will tell" he replied, moving to the bedside, making Meg move to her mother's side. Madame Giry just prayed for her recovery. She had not meant for anything like this to happen, and if young Kristen was brought to death, she would never forgive herself.

The doctor examined Kristen's head. She was bleeding from the cut at her temple, where she had fallen. "She may have a mild concussion, It's hard to say when she will wake up, or if she will wake up. Any number of things could have gone wrong, although it does not seem to me to be too awfully serious."

"So she will be ok?" Erik asked in deep concern. The doctor began to treat her injury,

"I think so, you should watch her though. I would not advise bringing her to the hospital in her state, the excursion may do her even more harm. She should not move from this bed either. I surely hope this was an accident. I will have to notify the authorities if this place is a crime scene"  
Both Madame Giry and Erik lifted a brow. The lair was already a scene of numerous crimes, how much worse could it get?

"Keep her warm, when she wakes, do not let her out of bed for at least a week, until you know she will be ok. I must leave, Madame Giry, you have interrupted me in a very important meeting with this situation of yours."

Erik frowned. He was leaving so soon? He would not even remain for a while to ensure that she would wake up? "Surely you do not intend to just leave her to chance!" Erik said in disbelief.

"Either way, sir, her recovery will be based on chance. She was not very badly injured, but I assure you, it is probable that she will return to consciousness within the next 24 hours. If it will ease your concern, notify me if she does not, and I will return for her, but I must go now, take care." Perdoux stated, and looked to Madame Giry, "Now, will you please get me out of this place?" The lair was truly a creepy place, it did not make him feel at all comfortable with it's gothic atmosphere.

Madame Giry nodded. "Meg, stay here while I show the Doctor out." Meg's chin dropped at the very thought. She was just leaving her with the Phantom? She opened her mouth to speak but her mother firmly silenced her, then left them.

"Will you please explain to me what I just saw in there?" Perdoux demanded with eyes of an insane man.

Madame Giry shook her head, "You saw the Phantom, you saw his dwellings, and you saw the burn victim which you have requested to stay here. You sir, have seen the very outcome of your refusal to listen to me back when I told you it would be bad to allow her to live here. If you are wise, you will hold silent, tell no one of this, and you will be safe."

Meanwhile, down in the cellar, Erik could not believe how simply that man had brushed off her condition. She could be dying, and this man didn't seem to care. Never had he felt such an empty hole where his heart should be. He could literally feel the true fright of her death tearing him apart inside.

Meg's eyes traveled from the Phantom, to Kristen. The way he was pouring his emotions over her, she might as well have been Christine. The perspective of his misery upon the possibility of her death was truly heartbreaking. He looked as Raoul had looked when Christine had gone missing... he looked completely unable to handle the worry.

While Meg watched the two, Erik could see nothing else around them, except Kristen. She was the only thing in existence in his mind. Meg's wandering eyes stopped on the Phantom. Aside from that ghastly mask he wore, he was in all truth quite a handsome man, but she remembered seeing his true face when Christine removed his mask during Don Juan... Those scars were enough to avert anyone's eyes from the more pleasant side of his face.

"Am I truly that revolting that you must stare in such insolence?" His voice came in calm anger and coldness, finally waking her from her trance. She quickly looked down to Kristen,

"I... I am sorry" Meg stated as quietly as a mouse, hoping he would not harm her. The source of her fear could be blamed on the nightmares she was plagued with as a child growing up... the Phantom and his haunting used to be the very reason she could not sleep many nights. "It is not that you are... as you say, sir, but I just... can't believe all of this."

Erik sighed. He hated that he was so frightening. For once he just wanted to be like everyone else, the same way he had wished for a normal face as a child. He loathed being such a beast, the only woman who could ever love him was this woman here, who would never see him. This woman here, who was in a non waking sleep. He moved his hand to Kristen's brow, and gently brushed her hair away, revealing her forehead, and the marks which slightly ravaged it. Meg watched, since knowing Kristen, she had almost forgotten the burn scars were even there.

"You should leave" Erik told Meg,

"But my mother said... "

"I don't care what she said, leave now." He commanded.

Meg nodded, and escalated from the bedside, to walk towards the door. Before making her exit, she turned back to Erik, and quietly sighed, "I truly hope she will be ok" she said, and left. Erik could hear her leaving through the mirror passage.

When Meg left, she had returned to her dormitory, but reading that stupid script was the last thing on her mind. First she had to wonder why the hell he always managed to let her go, especially when it was her mother who had beguiled him so.

In the meantime, as Erik remained by Kristen's side, nothing in the world could have cured him of his fear, nothing at all except perhaps her actual waking.

"Why God... why must you rid me of every little bit of happiness that somehow finds it's way into my accursed life?"

Erik never left her side for the rest of that night. After a few hours of watching her unconscious, he analyzed that her breathing remained the same, some of the color was returning to her cheeks which had grown pale, and he found himself able to stop worrying so badly.

The next morning, around six or seven am, according to that dusty little clock in the corner of his lair, Erik sat in the very same place he had been sitting all night, at her bedside. Kristen still did not awake, but she merely looked now like a sleeping woman. Her breath was as normal as ever, and she had begun to move a bit. The first moment she did move, he felt his heart nearly beat it's last beat. She was slowly waking, but not fast enough, it seemed.

He could not take his eyes off her now, as she began to stir, slowly waking from her unfortunate ordeal.

"Erik?" She asked in a faint whisper, her hand going to her forehead, her eyes remaining closed.

"Kristen... Kristen I'm here, my sweet" He said instantly, taking her hand and kissing it. "Oh how I worried you would not wake up... my Kristen." He said.

She turned her head slowly in his direction, "Erik, what happened?" she asked, with the same intonation.

"You fell, love" he told her, taking her other hand and kissing it in turn.

"My head," she complained lightly, still too drained of energy to even try and sit up, or move too much. "My stomach..." she added.

"What... what is wrong? are you in pain?" he asked her, looking to her stomach and then back to her.

She lightly smiled, "No, Erik, I'm... starving" she answered, truthfully, she hadn't eaten in quite a long time as it seemed.

"Ok,... ok, I'll bring you something to eat, stay here, my Kristen." He said, his voice becoming a slight bit protective. She heard him leave her room, as she rested her head on the pillow. What had really happened? Madame Giry had tried to steal her away from the Phantom, obviously she hadn't succeeded... because Kristen could still feel the silk sheets surrounding her.

And then she remembered what had happened before Madame Giry's intrusion. She remembered clearly the words he said to her. He would have her with him. She smiled to herself. What would have happened between them, had Madame Giry never shown up to ruin everything? And it was then, that she slowly opened her eyes.

Kristen almost fell out of bed at what had suddenly happened. How long had it been, since the first fire? months ago... that she actually experienced undeniable vision. This was not possible... she told herself, "I must be dreaming" She said quietly, and worriedly, as she realized the slight flicker of light that seemed to hover in the distance. Was it possible that she was regaining her eyesight? She was filled with instant joy, it was a light! It was a light in the distance. Unless she had died and was on her way to heaven, she was actually seeing!

Follow the light, she thought ridiculously. Of course she was not dead, not even heaven could possibly compare to her comfortable bed, but she had to know if this was real. She slowly rose to sit up, she squinted. She didn't know how this was possible. She wanted to run, she wanted to tell everyone she knew, she wanted to see her mother and father. But this was a light, and perhaps it was only a malfunction of her mind... she thought. Perhaps the light was just a light in her mind, but as she carefully put her feet to the ground, and walked towards where it was coming from, she realized... as her newly restored eyes adjusted to their surroundings, that it was the light of a candle, flickering from outside the curtains.

"I can see..." She said to herself, amazed. She closed one eye, then the other, realizing that both of her eyes were now working. She cursed herself instantly for allowing Erik to run off to find her food. Oh God! She thought, how was she going to tell him she could see? and how would he react? Given the way he seemed to feel about his appearance?

She gasped. As she walked out into the main lair, she realized... just how beautiful these dwellings were. The red draperies which hung down so elegantly to the stone floor, the many candle holders and candles which lit the dungeons. The stacks, and piles of music everywhere! The furniture seemed to be quite antique, and expensive looking. Everything just spoke of class and wealth, of elegance. She was breath taken. Surely she was dreaming, but never had she laid eyes upon anything so beautiful.

But then... she also noticed several oddities. Certain spaces of the lair were wrongly empty, as if things had been stored there once for many years which were not here now. What disaster had befallen this place before her arrival? Then she noticed the door near the very end of his home. It was wooden, and there was a knob and a lock on it. She walked passed the organ, and stopped to look at it. There was a half finished score sitting on it, the quill pen still covered in ink... how often did he write music? It looked so complicated that she almost felt dizzy looking at it... or perhaps it was just the effects of being knocked out for such a long time? How long had she been out? she wondered.

Walking to the door, she opened it slowly. This was wrong, she felt guilty all of a sudden. She could see now and the first thing she was doing was sneaking through his home? No... she closed the door. He will be back soon, I should return to the bed and figure out a way to tell him that I once again have use of my eyes... she thought.

And upon returning to the silky sheets, she heard his footsteps coming back into the area. She sighed... would everything be different? Perhaps he was only comfortable around her because she could not see him, and although he had allowed her to touch his face, she had not actually seen his face. Would he worry that she would scream? Suddenly... She had an idea.


	14. Heat and Laughter

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, fluff warning. I don't know really how far you want me to go where writing out serious "together" scenes are concerned, but I've read many stories which jumped to the "point" too quickly, and it ruins it. Please read and review, I enjoy your comments regarding the characters, and I hope you continue to review :), nothing makes me more happy than getting your feed back, trust me! **

**Oh, btw, you all know school is going back soon, so I won't get a chance to write as much as I do now, but I assure you that unless I am in all honesty plagued with the doom of homework, I will update a few times a week.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I could own the Phantom of the Opera, and the characters, but I do not! Damn I wish I could own the Phantom!**

He crossed the threshold of curtains, back into her room. "They don't have much around this place any more, I wish I could bring you more than just this, but it is all I could find" he said quietly. Kristen sat up. She kept her eyes closed. She longed to see him, but it would have to wait for now.

"Grapes?" she asked him cleverly.

"How...?"

"I can smell them" She told him, and she truthfully could. With her eyes closed, she still had all of her overpowered senses. He smiled at her, kneeling to her bedside once more,

"Erik, why do you use the floor when there is plenty of room in this bed for you to sit beside me?" she asked. He watched her, everything she did... everything she said was so unpredictable. "Sit beside me," She requested. Holding her eyes closed, she soon felt an extra being occupying the bed, and she could hear his breath whispering to her.

"I never left your side Kristen. Why must you always scare me like this?" He asked her, cupping her cheek with his palm and gently caressing her skin. She sighed in reaction to his touch, his hands were like fire, sending her heart rate to a maximum speed.

"I was trying to stay with you." She avowed, as if the words were timeless. Her expression and tone were different, they were passionate, but somehow still different. After all his years of spying on behavior, he had come to know people by personality... usually they acted a specific way if they were hiding something or if they were enduring something huge, of course he always discovered what their secrets were before anyone else did. There was something different about her this morning, he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Kristen, are you sure everything is ok?" He asked her softly, And in return, he received another sigh from her.

"Oh... Erik, I'm a horrible person for keeping this from you, even for these few moments." She confessed, reaching over and touching his face. Leave it up to her stubborn selfish reason to want to have her sight returned and not use it, her hand accidentally brushed with the mask he wore.

He frowned, "You are... hiding something?" He asked. This was new, what would she have to hide? Had she secretly told Meg to get Madame Giry to help her away from there? And once again he was torturing himself inside. These thoughts and accusations of such a horrid nature would haunt him. They would plague him perhaps forever.

"Well, yes... sort of. Uh..." She slightly giggled nervously. She honestly did not know how to tell him. She wanted to, but he wore a mask! In fact... he was the one hiding something from her! Not the other way around! Fighting and arguing would not work in this situation, she had to make sure that she did not make some stupid mistake with her unremitting words.

"Is it bad?" He asked gently, releasing his hand from her, he watched her carefully.

"No Erik, this is without a doubt a gift which accents the very gift you've given me." She slowly went on to say. She was beating around the bush, everything could be different now. She didn't want anything to be different when everything was starting out so perfect! And then she wondered how in the hell she could now be sad upon the return of her sight! Maybe she really was too strange for words.

"Tell me" he said, becoming curious... which was odd for him. He was never curious, because he always found everything he wanted to know, when he wanted to know it. The people of the Populaire were like his little hand puppets, he controlled them, but he didn't control her. She was in all honesty, non controllable.

She sighed, "Ok" She said, as strange little feelings of tightness began to surround her heart and stomach. She was so nervous, so very, very nervous. "Something... happened. When I fell, I mean... when I woke up... just now, something happened... I mean... I can...I can..."

"Are you sure, you're all right?" Erik asked her, feeling her forehead for any sign of fever. She had never been afraid to tell him anything, even if it was in a heated anger!

"Yes, Erik I'm all right" She said, taking the liberty to remove his hand from her forehead herself. "But I'm afraid that if I tell you this, things will never be the same. I'm afraid that you will hide from me or send me away if you knew."

Then it occurred to her that now she_could_ be apart of society again, with her eyes, she would be able to see and communicate perfectly with them. Erik would _want _the best for her, right? It was with these thoughts that she broke down crying. Erik's eyes grew wide.

"Kristen, what is wrong? Please tell me," As soon as her sobs became clear to him, the grapes which he had brought her were forgotten, and he pulled her weeping form to him, so as to hold her closely. She huddled into his embrace, never before had a thought seemed so scary, the thought of him sending her away because of her stupid... stupid eyes, which were, since the fire, the source of every little tragedy that had befallen her, including this little episode, which could very well be her ruin.

"Erik," She whispered, trying desperately to calm her sobs.

"I'm listening" he told her in a caring manner, stroking her hair softly.

"You have to promise me, that you will never send me away when I tell you this. You have to tell me right now that I am here to stay, no matter what. Please, I dread the thought of leaving to go back up to a place where all beauty is lost."

Wow, he thought. The world had seemed nothing but beautiful to this man who could not live amongst it, and this woman actually_wanted_ to be down here!

"Do you think I would be so stupid? to force you back up there after I've been so blessed with your will?" But she only paused... waiting like a stubborn child, for an answer. "Yes... fine, Kristen, I promise to never send you away against your will." Though his words could have been spoken in frustrated levels of voice, the whole time he was nothing but soft and gentle. He actually laughed at himself inwardly for being turned to such mush, but there was nothing better than being reduced to mush.

"I know how you... feel... about why you wear your mask, and I know that these words may terribly destroy everything that we were about to have... but... What happened, with Madame Giry, was a blessing in disguise."

"I don't understand..." he expressed with confusion.

"Erik..." She swallowed her strength, and just allowed herself to jump into the situation without holding back. She opened her eyes, though not yet making eye contact with him. For all he knew, she was still thinking of the right words to say. She looked down at the grapes which sat so still on the bed beside them, and then to the sheets of glorious black and blood red. Then, as her heart rate sped up like never before, she looked up at the man she had longed to look upon ever since hearing his beautiful... gorgeous, voice. "I can see." She told him. The very sight of him almost caused her heart to stop all together. From what she could see of his face, he was the most dashing man she had ever laid two eyes upon. So very intelligent looking, attractive, his eyes spoke of their genius, simply by looking back down into hers. But why... dear God why was that the first look she would ever see him give her?

Worry, and sadness. He was doomed, he knew it. But hadn't she just made him promise to allow her to remain?

"You can... see?" His voice seemed to tremble out their words. So startled was he, by this news. Kristen nodded slowly,

"Erik, I can't imagine what you must be thinking" She softly said. He turned his face from her,

"We could have had so much" He whispered, fighting back tears of agony. He knew that if she ever saw his face, she would react as everyone else in his life had reacted.

Kristen's lovely brown eyes grew wide, no longer were they broken, "Erik, what are you talking about?" She asked, moving her hand to bring his face back so she could look him in the eyes. The sensation of her touch to his face seemed to close his eyes automatically. She knew he was feeling something terrible.

"Kristen... my whole life, has been filled with horrified reactions and ridicule made by others at the very sight my face..."

Her brows lifted in sadness, "I know Erik, but not this time. It's over isn't it? As long as we're here, it can all be forgotten, right?"

He couldn't believe the effect she had on him, when she looked deeply into his eyes like that. Only once before had their eyes met, and that was accidental. This was real, and intentional, and her eyes were like pools of fire, the way she looked at him.

"To this day, I've never been sure of that." he replied.

"But Erik, I'm here, and I... want to be here, with you, no matter..."

"Wouldn't you rather return..."

"No! I made you promise me you wouldn't suggest those things!"

He sighed. She was right. Somehow she had a way of making him promise her things that seemed to get in the way only moments later. There was such genius flame in his eyes, she regretted never having been able to see him before, but thanked God so greatly that she could now. His gaze did something to her, it seemed to set her on fire. She had to inhale deeply, his eyes, they were so penetrating.

"You're right" he admitted with defeat. Kristen gently smiled, and took his hand into her, just staring down at it. She hadn't seen him before, and she wanted to. She wanted to see every part of him. She allowed her eyes to travel over him, over his fine black clothing, the perfect half of his face and the mask which he wore over the other. Looking up at him, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it,

"Madame Giry interrupted a perfect moment to make way for this miracle," she said, her voice soft and slow, "I will not let anything ruin us. Tell me we have something here." she gently demanded. His hand moved from her lips to the side of her neck, where it rested there warmly,

This was almost too much for him to bare. After a lifetime of never knowing love from anyone, could he really act upon it now? He had to, he could not let her go, this was something she was willingly giving him, it was the one thing he had only dreamed of having throughout all his years of solitude. "You are in my heart Kristen," he told her. No words could have ever sounded so alluring, than those words which came from his lips. She rose to her knees, still wearing that gorgeous green dress, which she still didn't know the color of, the only light was the light of the candles burning on the other side of those curtains, and it was not enough to make out darker pigments.

On her knees, she traveled to close whatever gap there was between them, all the while never taking her sparkling eyes from his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him, stopping when her lips were just inches from his. She could tell he was having difficulty remaining calm, but she wanted this more than ever now that she could see him.

"How do I show you that you truly fascinate me?" She whispered, her breath warming his lips. His eyes seemed to perforate her soul, she was growing weak in both her knees and heart, with every moment she gazed into them. She was seriously falling. Before he could have expected, she brought her mouth to his, in one very passionate kiss. A kiss that was nothing like the innocent little touch of lips before, it stole his lips completely, and would make way for more, as she felt him return her heated affection. Both of their eyes closed in unison as they tasted each other hungrily, however long he had lived his life alone, that solitude was coming to an arduous end.

She broke the kiss to catch her breath, but upon opening her eyes she realized once again the way he was looking at her. So sensual and aflame were his piercing jade eyes, she could barely breath. "Erik" she said, panting for air. Nothing had ever jolted her in such a way. That kiss was powerful, deep and passionate, her heart was beating furiously.

She was well aware that she had not yet seen his unmasked face, and she thought it wise not to ask about it in such a fragile moment. She could have fainted at the fluttering her heart was experiencing, like dynamite, it was the explosion she had been waiting for, that kiss, and she wanted more.

"Kristen..."

If he was planning on saying more to her than just her name, she didn't give him any chance at all to express it, for she once again stole his lips, perhaps with stronger ferocity than before. He could not believe what she was giving him. This passion, this love, was greater than he could have ever dreamed. How could he refuse her? he could not... he could only return her fervency, until the feelings within him began ascending to a dangerous level.

This time it was he who broke their attachment. She was driving him mad, and he knew he had to prevent falling to a situation where containing their feelings was not an option.

"Erik, what you make me feel... it's..."

"Strong" he finished for her, for she had made him feel the exact same thing. She nodded,

She put her hands to his chest, and looked up at him, "Is there something wrong?" she asked quietly. He hadn't said anything, but by the look in his eyes she could almost sense it.

"No Kristen, nothing is wrong." He told her, but he removed himself from the bed, and began to walk towards the exit of the room.

She didn't say anything, she just followed him. When he turned around he found himself face to face with her, "Erik, what are you thinking?" she asked curiously.

How could he tell her the real reason of his departure from her? Well, when words could not be found, it must be said the only way it can be said.

"If we would have continued that, God only knows how far it would have gone." he said.

Kristen's beautiful brown eyes grew wide, "Oh..." she replied. A part of her grew frustrated. So what if they went further? It was not as if they hadn't both wanted to... obviously he was trying to respect her, and if it was something other than that, she would have to kill those feelings right out of him. "It will happen, you know..." she said, because in all reason, that was true. She would soon not be able to resist him the way she was now... and even now it was difficult. She wanted him, but obviously they were not ready.

Erik said nothing. He simply moved through the curtains, and out into the dim light provided by the candles. She quietly sighed to herself. She knew it was more than he was letting on.

"What happened to the man who told me to call him Erik, and not a Phantom? Truly, tell me the real reason why you withdrew from me..." she gently demanded. He knew she was seeing right through him. Was he really that bad at hiding his emotions? or was she really that good at seeing them?

He walked to his organ. Honestly if she was not already killing him with her power, she was killing him with her fight.

"Surely you do not mean to tell me that he is dead..." she said with a slight hint of sarcasm. "It's because of my eyes now, isn't it." She began to slowly travel around the organ, "Oh but... of course! It was always about my eyes..." She sighed slowly, "Is the way everything looks going to effect our relationship? If that is in fact.. what we even have."

He turned and looked to her, "You cannot possibly tell me you are ready for such intimacy."

"I was..." she confessed.

He moved from around the piano, and stood before her. He took her chin into his hands, and looked down into her lovely eyes, "You have a heart made of gold Kristen, but I think that this is something which must be... delayed."

What was he thinking? From what Kristen had heard of men, sex was the only thing they wanted, and here he was telling her to wait? Or was it the lingering memory of Christine which truly held his heart? Inwardly she growled. If she ever got her hands on that singing crow she'd rip her hair out! Whatever his feelings were, she would not have the power to change them.

"For what reason?... I'm just, curious" she wrapped her arms around him and allowed her head to rest upon his chest.

"There are many faults which can occur when two people do not plan these things..." He told her, returning her embrace. She frowned,

"Are you talking about children?" She asked.

"that would be the main result" he replied, lightly resting his head on hers. She lightly smiled. It was a better answer than what she could imagine him saying...

"I suppose you are right," She granted. His brow lifted and he looked down at her,

"I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly?" he asked, hints of laughter in his voice, probably the first sound of pure happiness she had ever heard come out of him.

She pulled him to her and hugged him roughly, he felt so squeezed he could have coughed up a lung, but the moment which could have turned truly sour, had somehow become fun and loving.

"Yes Erik, you heard me agree with you." She sighed out lightheartedly, and returned her head to his chest.

**A/N: Hugs and hope to everyone suffering from Hurricane Katrina, may the tragedy soon end!**


	15. Unmaskings and Secrets

**A/N: Oh, thank you! Thank you so much for your reviews! That really big one... I almost cried just reading it! I love you guys, you're all my best friends! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter, it was a bit tough to write in the middle, but I hope you all like it! Please read and review:) I'm so heartwarmed by all your comments!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the Phantom of the Opera and the characters within the story, I would have made Christine love Erik. But I don't own any of it, so... know that, lol.**

The sound of laughter reverberated throughout the dungeons, as Kristen was swiftly lifted and whirled around in the arms of her Phantom. Both of them had been extremely thankful that this moment turned out the way it did, and as it seemed, nothing would ruin what they had. Kristen had completely forgotten about her growling stomach... his closeness was greater satisfaction than food anyway.

She broke off her embrace with him, though still at arms length, she looked down at the magnificent gown she possessed, then around at the many gothic decorations which graced the lair.

"Your home, it's truly astounding" she commented, returning her gaze to his penetrating eyes, once more finding herself incapable of looking anywhere else. "What you've done with it, everything, it's simply genius."

"You like your new home?" he asked her. Her knees almost gave way. This was her new home, with those words, only now did it begin to sink in that she was really here to stay.

"More than any place on earth." She told him quietly. He smiled warmly down at her, his eyes became moist, but with his expression, they could have been small tears of joy. Although, as he lovingly traced the scars which marked her forehead, her own expression became rather uneasy. She had not yet seen her own face, let alone his...

"Kristen, what's wrong?" he asked her suddenly, observing the change in her eyes, and becoming rather uneasy about it.

She sighed, holding back whatever sobs were on their way. She wished she didn't have to think of these things at a time like this. The doctor had told her that day that she was "still beautiful", but how could he tell her otherwise? Was it not the doctor's job to comfort his patients? Well, either way, Erik seemed to take fancy to these scars, at least she was certain they both had one thing in common, a favor of distortion. The day he allowed her to lay hands to his marred skin, she was instantly fascinated, but to her own? It was a different story entirely, when one considers themselves, and not another.

"I have not yet seen what marks have been made to my face" she told him as best she could without letting her worry become too evident.

"Oh Kristen, no, they are hardly marks." he told her, instantly realizing that she was concerned about her brands. It was bad enough for him to look in the mirror and see what he had been born with, but she grew up with a beautiful,and perfect face, any mark was likely to frighten her. She sighed,

"I must look upon them" she voiced slowly, her eyes traveling to the ground. Erik brought her closely to him in a gentle embrace, and scanned his dark haven for a mirror. They were all destroyed, that terrible night, he had broken all of them. Only one did he replace, the mirror passage.

"Kristen, you are gorgeous, despite the marks" He tried to assure her.

"Show me" She replied quietly, and with silent trepidation.

"Over there, the mirror passage" He pointed. She looked in this given direction. The mirror faced the stone wall and she could not see her image from where she stood. She slowly began to travel towards this decorated instrument of reflection, when suddenly she stopped in her tracks, and turned to face him. This would be the best time, when both of them could learn of exposure together.

"I will not look" she said to him, and watched him become curious and confused.

He didn't reply. Was her horror truly that deep that she could not bare to look upon her own face for fear of seeing something hideous? What did that say about what her reaction would be towards his own face?

"I will not look, Erik, until you show me what you yourself hide behind the mask you wear." And with her words he was paralyzed. She was tricky, somehow she knew exactly how to get from him what she wanted, but this? His face? When he had spent his entire life hiding it from the world? He would have stood frozen there for centuries in her presence if it would have prevented him from revealing to her his horrid flesh, but as always, she proved so unpredictable as she journeyed back across the cold stone floor, to stand ever so close before him.

"Is this how it must be?" he asked regretfully. The memory of Christine ripping the mask from his face and falling away in fear, was too much for him to handle. If this young woman, whom had already given him the love he never knew, recoiled back in terror, he would most likely die.

She sighed. Perhaps she asked too much. He was so very kind to her, just look at where she was, and what she was wearing. For the first time in her life she felt... almost wealthy. Money had never been an issue in her life. There was hardly any to be had, and therefore none to lose, so none to worry about. But he made her feel important to him, that was something special to her. He told her she was in his heart, that was also special. Waves of guilt flooded her spirit as she knew what she had to say.

"If we must unveil the things we do not want to show, then let us do it together. I do not want to show to myself my own image, and you do not want to show me yours... both of us have fears we must conquer, Erik... please? I so long to see you without your disguise, however bad your marring is, I'm sure I will take some sort of liking to it" she tried to softly laugh, but it was obvious that the only emotion which surrounded them now was worry and anticipation. "You know how I feel about you, Erik, I could never do to you what you say everyone else has. Please show me, and I will no longer fear to look upon myself."

He sighed. She was very persuasive, and very determined that she wished to see him. She almost planted within him relief, that he would be OK with her no matter what, but relying on such hope had never proven safe.

She watched his uncertainty, and stood up on tiptoes to softly brush her lips against his. When she returned to a full stance she could see the tears threatening to rack his eyes, once again she was making him cry. She soundlessly damned herself. She was far too demanding to a man who was far too kind. Nevertheless, her heart began to beat in a mad fury as she saw his graceful hand slowly make it's way towards his mask, but upon reaching it, he only touched it, he did not remove it.

She put her hand softly to his shoulder,

"Don't be afraid," he told her.

She shook her head in assurance, "I could never fear you now, not now, not ever." She brought her face close to his, and delicately kissed his cheek. He wouldn't dare unmasked himself as she stood so close to him, but as her other hand moved to cover his hand which touched the mask, he knew that the time was now, the moment which would determine their future. She gently tightened her grasp on his hand,

"Please Erik, it's time." She whispered, looking up into his beautiful saddened eyes, and as she saw the mask removed, she noticed his eyes begin to close. She now held the mask as she looked up into his malformation. Just as the stories seemed to describe it, as was told to her by Meg, yellowed and reddened skin, swollen in some places, and twisted in others. That side of his nose was slightly sunken in, accompanied by uneven ridges. By no means was there a black hole where his nose should have been, that part was a completely lie! Marred, he was simply marred. And not only that, she had realized he wore a wig, but perhaps she would not ask him to remove that, she could hardly understand how he could possibly bare this moment now, she would not make it worse for him. By no means was she frightened. She brought her hand to this disfigurement, just as she had done when she was blind, and scaled over this flesh.

"Open your eyes, Erik" She said. Somehow she could not stop saying his name, it was slowly becoming her favorite word. After several moments spent convincing himself to do so, he obeyed her command, as always, strangely, and looked down into her eyes. As she looked up at him, she realized that with both eyes open, she could tell it was him even with this apparent tarnish. She already knew it was him, but she could see _him_, through his eyes. Her thumb now caressed this flesh, and his agonizing anticipation slowly diminished as he realized the light smile that was slowly spreading across her lips.

"I've never seen anything like it" She whispered to him, trying to assure him that she was still fascinated by him, despite his imperfection.

"no doubt" he replied under saddened breath.

"No... Erik, don't do this. I've already told you that everything about you amazes me... Your face... I can still see your soul Erik, as I was able to see your soul in darkness, I can see it in your eyes, your heart, your mind, your genius, It's all in your eyes." She continued to obsessively cuddle his appearance with her eyes, as if he was the most attractive man alive, when in all honesty he was the exact opposite... not to her though. No, not to stubborn little Kristen with her individual views towards everything. She softly kissed both his cheeks, and dried his tears, which now began to fall from his beautiful green eyes, with one delicate finger.

"Kristen" he whispered, bringing his hand to her face as she stood so closely to him. "I don't deserve you" he told her, kissing her forehead. Her eyes closed upon this, and she further smiled. All was out in the open now, she released a sigh. But then, no... all was not out yet, she realized. Just as she was about to tell herself all her worries were over, she remembered that she had not yet looked upon her own image.

Kristen was an angel, he though, as he held her. Yes, in the past he had referred to Christine as his angel of music, but not like this. Kristen was not an angel of music, she was simply an angel, for no soul this extraordinary could ever come from such a somber place as earth. Heaven must have sent her, although Erik had spent most years snarling at religion, wondering why, if God loved all his children, he would plague Erik with such loneliness. But Kristen was the answer at the end of all his uncertainties.

She was so very silent in his embrace, he knew that she was contemplating holding true to her end of the bargain. She would have to look into a mirror someday, he thought, but he found it increasingly difficult to even think about forcing her to do anything now, after she had granted him the gift of acceptance upon viewing his gruesome appearance.

"Erik, I'm so afraid, I'm so afraid to look..." She told him, burying her face in his chest, though she didn't cry, she was still to happy upon seeing him whole that her own misery was hardly phasing her. But she did however still feel that worry, that she would look into the mirror and see a melted brow, in total disrepair.

He rubbed her back softly, then stroked her hair, succeeding in comforting her away from most of her fear. "You don't have to Kristen, if you're not ready, you don't have to." He told her. She sighed, and looked up at him, at his unmasked face,

"We made a deal," She gently argued, but she couldn't help herself. She had to smile a little. Really when had the face of nightmare stirred within her such desire to create? She found herself standing within the very pages of Beauty and the Beast, only she didn't know how beautiful Beauty was in this account, but the story had captivated her ever since she was a little child. Could she truthfully say she was living it now? Erik, the man whom everyone at the opera house feared. Her heart seemed to bleed for that, it excited her at an extreme level of intensity.

"Yes, but Kristen, it can wait. You know, you're supposed to be in bed anyway. When you were... asleep, Madame Giry called in a doctor. He said you should remain in bed for at least a week..."

"There was a doctor here? Who?" Kristen inquired with shock, instantly forgetting the dilemma of her scars.

"If I recall correctly, she said his name was Dr. Perdoux, she said you would be familiar with him."

Kristen gasped._That_ doctor? whom had actually suggested she stay at the Populaire while her mother leave to God only knows where. It occurred to her somewhere between now and when she first realized she could see that she no longer had a reason to remain in the city of Paris... except for Erik. He was the only thing holding her here, and it was a strong hold she was bound by. She could not imagine herself being happy anywhere else again if she was not with him.

He gave her an inquisitive look, and she only shook her head at his questioning expression,

"He was the doctor who treated my burns" she said. He nodded in understanding.

"I could not believe it when he just left us here after only a few moments of examining you. He left, he told Madame Giry in front of all of us that he was busy..."

"Yes, well that man has a habit of disappointing people..." she began to say, but then upon realizing his last words, she had to frown. "All of us?" she asked

"Meg was there" he replied. Kristen smiled,

"Oh, Meg was here?" she asked with happiness, "She is such a nice girl..." Erik snorted at that remark. "I know... I know, she was rather awful to you, but she doesn't know any better. She is caring though. If only I could see her again... "

Erik frowned, "Why can't you?" he asked her.

Kristen looked up at him surprised, "You would permit me to leave here?" She asked. He nodded in response,

"Why not Kristen? You are not a prisoner. If you would like, I will show you every maze, ever tunnel and every hidden corridor of this theater. You will be able to travel to any part of the Populaire you wish, without being seen."

These words made her genuinely happy. "Yes! Show me everything!" She responded in a very giddy fashion. Her smile and her sparkling eyes revealed to him that she had completely forgotten of everything which had only moments ago worried her. "Make me a Phantom, like you!" she said, and upon that, he laughed.

"You wish to be a Phantom?" He asked her. She smiled widely, exposing her pearly white teeth, truly she had a breathtaking smile, and this excitement within her only enhanced that.

"Teach me to be like you" she begged, then she took his hand. Suddenly it occurred to her that she was acting upon her previous fascinations. She was acting upon the very things which Meg had warned her to avoid, and it felt wicked, sinful, and glorious! She glanced up at him with dark mysterious eyes, a look which he had never seen from her before, and she pulled him with her as she said,

"Come with me, as I see myself." she requested, and he followed her. If she could get it into her mind that these scars upon her face only made her more like him, it would not be bad at all. If she could become like him, it wouldn't matter how bad the marks were, it would only matter that they were there, labeling her as his true soul mate.

The mirror stood only a few paces forward... a few paces into the next realm of her life. And then, she found her reflection.

They were as Dr. Perdoux had said they would be that day in the doctor's office. They were simply burn scars, slightly marring her brow, but not to the extent that she had expected. She was barely able to notice the scars until she reached the mirror up close. At first, when she saw herself from far back, she was confused, for it really looked as if there was nothing there at all.

She examined her image for many moments, running her fingers along the scars, wondering how on earth she could have ever thought they would be as bad as she was expecting them to be. Then she saw Erik walk up from behind her, and looked at her in the mirror. She looked back at him, and sighed.

"Do you see?" He asked, turning her around to face him, "You were worrying for nothing, my love" he told her, and kissed her temple softly.

"I wouldn't have been able to do that if it were not for you. If it were not for your willingness to show yourself to me..." She admitted. "I think it will be quite wonderful to aid you in your control of the theater, as your... female phantom." She said, brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it gently, in sensual movement, as she starred up into his deep green eyes. Nothing had excited her more than the very prospect of being the next ghost to haunt the Opera Populaire.

"You're amazing Kristen" he told her, running a skilled hand through her hair.

"Wait..." Kristen frowned, and turned her head in the other direction. Erik watched her befuddled,

"What?" he asked.

"I hear footsteps" she said. He frowned... footsteps?

"I hear nothing" he said.

Was it possible that she was still able to hear everything as she had heard when her eyes were unusable? Apparently, for about ten seconds later, Erik was able to hear the very sounds she spoke of. Footsteps, and they were approaching at a rapid pace. He quickly grabbed for his mask and returned it to his malformed face, before the very likes of Meg Giry popped through the mirror passage, and found herself face to face with both Erik and Kristen, standing side by side.

Upon seeing Kristen, Meg gasped. That emerald dress was more beautiful in this light than it had been in the dimness of the bedchamber.

"Kristen! You are awake!" She bellowed joyously, "Oh how wonderful!" She ran to give her friend a hug, completely ignoring the Phantom to jump into her "blind" friends arms.

Kristen didn't know who it was who came through the mirror until she heard her voice, when the young girl had screamed out with her non extinguishable enthusiasm, she soon realized who it was, and returned Meg's enfold, looking up at Erik from where she stood in this embrace, warning him to be a little nicer to this immature ballerina. "Meg, listen, I must tell you something, and I haven't a moment to lose upon saying it... " She said.

Meg let go of her friend, and stared up into her gorgeous eyes, it was clear to her even before Kristen could say it that she was able to see again. "I've regained my sight Meg, I can see as clearly as I could before. Meg, I wish I could have seen how beautiful you are long ago..."

Meg's entire expression lit up, "Kristen! Oh this is fantastic! Now you can..." her enthusiasm suddenly died down. She remembered how this whole thing had happened. Her mother was trying to take her away against her will... and she could recall Kristen saying that she did not want to leave.

Erik decided it was best to leave the two girls alone, that look Kristen had given him was more than enough signal. He thought it might be needed to allow them some private time anyway, Kristen had been through so much, maybe what she needed now was a friend, of the same gender, that is.

"Kristen, what are you going to do? You can see, you don't have to stay here any more, you can go back to your mother and father and..."

Kristen took Meg lightly by the wrist and led her through the curtains into the bedroom. "No Meg" she whispered to her softly, and with friendliness, "I don't want to leave... never, I never want to leave"

Meg instantly grew curious, as was custom for her. "But you can see again, you can go anywhere you want to."

"No, I can't" Kristen replied. "I..." she gave a single glance out through the curtains, and looked back down to Meg, "I think I am in love..." she whispered so very quietly. Meg's brilliant eyes grew wider than perhaps human nature would allow them to, and she covered her mouth,

"With the Opera Ghost?" She asked, truly startled.

Kristen sighed, "His name is Erik" she whispered. Obviously she did not want him to hear any of this. What she felt for him could truly have been called love, but she didn't know if she could say it, to him any way... what if he did not _LOVE_ her in return. He was very fond of her yes, but Christine was still not far enough in the past for her comfort.

"What are you going to do?" Meg asked quietly.

"I'm going to stay, with him." She replied.

"And he's allowing it?" Meg inquired,

"Yes" Kristen answered, with a smile. "He said he wants me here, forever with him."

Meg grew horrified. She still could not fathom that this... "Erik"... was a real man. She also had to get it out of her head that Kristen was under some sort of spell... she was slowly beginning to believe that the girl could really grow to love him, it was evident in the way she spoke of him before, way back when she was trying to assure Meg that there was not even an Opera Ghost at all.

"Forever?" Meg asked, "In this dungeon?"

"Dungeon?" Kristen responded with outrage, "This is the very origin of beauty! Look around you Meg, it's scary! it's romantic, it's gothic, it's elegant. It's simply beautiful, and I would rather be here than anywhere else."

Meg sighed, and nodded. "I guess this is your choice Kristen" she said, "But, what about my mother? She knows you're here, and when she finds out that you can see again, the first thing she is going to do is contact your mother."

Kristen froze. Meg was right. Madame Giry didn't seem to approve of her relationship with Erik. This was a whole new problem all together. "Bloody Hell" she muttered as she sat down on her bed of silk, "There's got to be a way around this..." Meg sat down beside her. Kristen began to nervously nibble on the grapes which had been left there, while she further pondered the situation.

"Meg, whatever you do, do not tell your mother anything... don't even tell her that you have returned here. For all you know, I'm still unconscious, understand? Madame Giry must never know that I can see. She must never know. Neither must Dr. Perdoux, or anyone else. The only ones who shall know of my ability to see, is you, me, and Erik.


	16. The Newest Patron

**A/N: I have to tell you something... I wrote out this whole thing before...and then it got erased! Somehow, I think I made it better for you the second time around... there is a little surprise coming up very soon that I'm sure you're all dying to know about, "We must be patient" Slithered the little worm that is writing this story, (Me, lol) Please Read and Review, you guys are great for the reviews you've given me already, hugs for all my readers.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters.**

Meg frowned. Her, keep a secret? Since when had she been able to keep a secret? She was the weakest flood gate in this history of gossip. She looked up at Kristen through those worried eyes of hers,

"How can you trust me with this?" she asked, "You know I am the most foolish of all the girls in the ballet." She hung her head low in mild shame, it was not easy to admit those things about herself, but she knew they were accurate.

"Oh Meg, don't speak of yourself in such a way," Kristen replied, "I have to trust you, because you are the only one here I can count on to make this work for me. If I cannot rely on you, my chance to stay here will be gone. I believe in you Meg, you can do this." She encouraged her friend.

"I will try," Meg answered quietly, though still deep down inside she did not know if she could resist her mother's interrogations. When Madame Giry wanted something from her daughter, she usually got it, especially if it was information. "But Kristen, the Opera Ghost?" she asked, "You're in love with the Opera Ghost?"

Kristen's eyes grew wide, "SHHHH!" She held her index finger over her lips in an urgent signal for her friend to keep silent, "I do not wish for him to hear it from me yet." She whispered.

"Do you not take into account the stories? the talk? He is a mad man, and a murderer!" Meg stated, once again in absolutely no regard for the feelings of the person she was speaking to. Kristen's eyes grew to a strange level of darkness upon hearing these words, and her voice seemed to ring with quiet anger,

"Erik, is not, a mad man."

Meg watched her friend grow to this state, and she slightly winced back a bit. She had never meant to hurt anyone with those words... but as she had said, they just seemed to come out, as if they were unstoppable. "I'm sorry" She muttered in soft terror, and as Kristen realized what had just happened, she quickly calmed down.

"Oh, I'm sorry Meg, but you cannot say those things about him. He is not a mad man..."

"But he hung Joseph Buquet by the neck!" Meg said, in terror over the memory. Kristen looked at Meg with a bit of question,

"Meg, Erik has never known love, he has never known compassion, nor friendship. The world has rejected him, and you know why. No one could accept that he was born different, no one could show him the slightest amount of love... They don't know what a gift he is to the world." Her voice was brought to softness as she gently fiddled with the silken bed sheets. It was quite clear to Meg that what Kristen felt in her heart was something powerful, her eyes alone seemed to melt as she spoke of him.

"But what he did to Christine..."

"He was in love with her. You know what sort of things people do when they're in love, they become crazy!"

"Yes, that's easily observed..." Meg said, looking Kristen over as if to tell her that SHE was crazy.

"Christine wouldn't love him either... she perhaps deserved to be kidnapped. And you can't tell me that anyone really misses Joseph Buquet. From what Erik has told me, the man was a filthy pervert who deserved to be knocked off anyway." Meg sighed. She couldn't really disagree with her there. Ever since his death she found it a bit easier to sleep at night, knowing that_he_ wasn't there, gaping through some peep whole. She herself knew the fancy he took to young girls, the way he always spent time with the dancers after the performances... the other girls never seemed to mind much, however.

"I guess you're right," Meg said, "He hasn't really done much harm other than scare people a little. I guess I kind of liked what he did to La Carlotta though, on the night of Il Muto." she quietly laughed. Kristen joined in with her silent moment of humour, but she knew the situation was far from fine.

"If you could see the way he really is, you would not fear him. He is so kind, he is so very gentle. How anyone can refer to him as a monster is beyond me. Oh Meg, promise me you'll come visit me sometimes, we will have such fun together."

Meg gasped, "Here?" she asked, "What about... " She pointed towards the curtain entrance, to gesture that she was speaking of Erik. Kristen frowned. She really didn't know how things would turn out between them.

"I'm sure he will not mind having one visitor here" She guessed, "But you know, Meg, he did nothing to you to make you shy away in fear from him like you did that time. He even let you go without a fight. I promise you, you have nothing to fear from him."

"I don't think he likes me very much" Meg said.

"He is only saddened because you were afraid of him. He loathes himself Meg, though I cannot see a reason why..."

"Kristen... um... have you seen his face yet?" Meg asked, remembering the incident of his unmasking during Don Juan, and wondering if Kristen was still somehow under the impression that he wore the mask only to give himself that element of appealing mystery, even though they all knew he was born with some sort of horrid malformation. Wearing the mask, he was one of the handsomest men Meg had ever seen, if she could imagine the other side of his face being identical to the left side. Was it possible that Kristen hadn't yet seen his true face?

Kristen nodded, "I have, he removed his mask."

"After you could see?"

"Yes Meg, I have seen his face with my own two eyes, and I'm telling you, people make a big deal over the smallest things." Kristen knew that what she said had been an understatement. His disfigurement truly would horrify someone who was caught off guard, but she had the advantage of her twisted nature and her growing love for him. That fascination of hers towards him would only get stronger, she predicted.

Meg sighed somewhat. "I will only be able to come here if my mother doesn't know. Kristen, if I were you, I'd be careful, my mother may wish to come here once again to see if you've awaken."

Kristen nodded. She looked back out towards the light coming from the outer region. She could only think of Erik now, somewhere out there in the lair waiting for Meg to make her departure. It would be cruel for her to spend all of her time in this room conversing with Meg while he contemplated what the little rat could possibly want with Kristen. So in response to Meg's latest comment, Kristen nodded her head,

"Perhaps you should leave, then" she said gently, "If she will be back soon, the last thing you want is for her to discover that you are here."

Upon that, Meg's eyes grew wide in realization of what could, or would happen, if or when her mother found her here. She quickly nodded, and stood to leave. Kristen followed her out of the bedchamber, and held the mirror door open for her,

"Take care Meg," Kristen said, "It was really really nice to see you again!"

Meg bid her farewell, and left. When Kristen could no longer see her form moving down the shadowed tunnel, she closed the mirror, and turned around to face the lair.

Her eyes came to settle on Erik, who had been sitting there at his dark wooden desk, observing her.

"Did you enjoy your little chat?" He asked dryly, as he looked over at her from that exquisitely furnished desk. Kristen sighed, why was he being so difficult?

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did." She claimed boldly, walking towards him with an air of confidence. "You should really try and be more friendly towards her, I mean... she will be coming back, you know" She reached his desk, and stopped before him at the other side. Erik frowned immediately, his eyes igniting in their flames of green as he looked up at her.

"What?" He asked lowly, and darkly.

"Well, if this is to be my home as well, it is only fair that you allow me one or two visitors" she said. He froze in disbelief. Visitors? Plural?

"Are you crazy?" he bellowed, his voice must have echoed throughout the entire lair, and lake.

"Yes, quite." She replied. "Please Erik, try to understand. Meg is not a bad person, she is so kind and caring."

"Well, I suppose you could not_see_ the way she looked upon first laying eyes on me... she was horrified."

"It is not her fault that she is an immature adolescent, and I'm sure she did not mean to be so rude. You cannot blame her though" she said, "You have spent many years making your reputation here quite a fearful one... dropping props on singer's heads, making the leading lady croak like a toad, leaving little notes for the managers..."

He couldn't answer to this right away. Sitting on his desk, was the pile of many unfinished scores which he had neatly stacked there after that mob of enraged stage hands had sacked his home, scattering the pages about. Sitting on top of the pile, was a small paper weight, in the shape of a little bronze lion. Kristen smiled as she saw him begin to tinker with it, as it seemed, he would now do anything to avoid looking up at her. He looked so guilty, and it was the most adorable thing she had ever seen from him.

"Those things had to be done" he simply stated.

She laughed, "Yes, I'm sure they did."

He frowned at her, "Meg was afraid of _me_, not the stories. If she had feared the stories she would not have come down here to begin with." Kristen's brow lifted in anguish for the sadness she could see begin to fill his beautiful eyes.

"Erik, when she learns that she doesn't have to fear the _Opera Ghost_, she will come to learn that you, as a man, are nothing to fear at all. She lives in a dream land, to her, you are a cloak and footsteps. To her, you are not the loving, gentle, and not to mention ingenious man that I have come to know."

"I will be quite surprised if she is not already on her way up there to tell everyone that the young Ms. Verlaine is awake and has regained her sight..."

She grimaced, "Yes, I know, the girl can't hold a secret any better than she can hold a bar of soap, but she told me she would try, all we can do is believe in her."

"You really wish to have her come down here on occasion?" he asked her, finding it annoying that the young girl would be intruding upon their privacy together.

Kristen paused for a few moments before deciding that she should touch up on a few other subjects as well, "You know Erik, you really ought to try and think about forgiving Madame Giry." she said. And she could tell that she had struck a nerve within him regarding this particular subject. Upon those very words, he rose from his seat, walked around the desk and faced her, with a dark and silent fury.

"You do not know what you are asking" he told her with that lowest voice of evil he could muster. Kristen watched his eyes, she caught her stare begin to travel unintentionally from those pools of deep green, to his lips. She couldn't put her finger on the reason why, but his fury seemed to entice her.

"If it were not for her... we would not be together."

"That woman..." he began, then had to momentarily pause. The very memories were maddening. "First she abandoned you, to come here with that filthy pathetic excuse for a man Raoul, and ruin everything. She ruined any chance I had of ..."

"Yes yes, I know, being with your precious Christine" She finished for him in frustration, crossing her arms and looking the other way. Her voice had expressed her emotions, defeated and distressed. Would the memory of Christine never leave him?

Erik watched her in this state, and he sighed. Never did he imagine that this could turn so foul. He did not realize that she would be jealous of Ms. Daae, but obviously she was.

"Come on Kristen, what's wrong?" He asked her.

She exhaled in a tired checkmate, "Christine Daae... how do I even compare? She had a voice to match your compositions, and apparently, from what I heard, she had undeniable beauty, charm, and appeal. What do I have but a tarnished past and an empty future?... I cannot sing, nor dance, nor lay an intelligent hand to an instrument."

His eyes grew worried. How long had she been feeling these things without saying them? "You and Christine cannot compare to each other." he told her. "She was my prisoner, not my companion. She was nothing like you, she was naive and still very much a child. She was everything I thought I wanted..." he said, tracing her jaw line with a warm and gentle touch, "Can I trust that you will never row away with some young prince charming if one ever happens to show up at the theatre?

"Can you promise me that you will never leave me to pursue an old dream, should Christine Daae ever return to the Populaire?" she returned. They both gave each other the same look, as if to tell one another that they were so damned insane for even thinking it, and upon that, they smiled. Once again, a situation which was taking a turn for the worse seemed to heal itself right before their eyes.

"I still think you should have a talk with Madame Giry. You know she only does the things she does because she loves the people she does them to." She said, "And if it were not for her, I wouldn't have even come here in the first place. I might be off in some hospital right now trying to read little lumps on a page. She let me live here so that I could learn to love you, she abandoned me so that you could... rescue me," she began to smile, "And she tried to make me leave you so that I could see again. Can you not realize that these things all happened for a reason?" She asked, taking both his hands in hers and bringing herself closer to him.

"But Kristen, this place, it's a... cave. People can't just come down here as if it is a real home, you know..." She playfully scowled,

"But Erik, I thought this was_our_ home now." She gently pushed him. His jaw nearly hit the floor. Sometimes he still wondered how she had the audacity to pull such stunts.

"You speak as if it is_your_ home now..." he gently pushed her back. She had opened her mouth to say something in response, but words seemed to give way to a bit of a playful fist fight, ultimately they ended up kissing each other more passionately than they'd ever kissed before.

Meanwhile, in a rather less joyful region of the Opera Populaire, Madame Giry paced the entrance back and forth, contemplating how she should remove Kristen from that horrid, horrid place. She could contact Dr. Perdoux and have him find an opening in a blind school for her... she would be better off there than in this place, under the rule of Erik, the Phantom. She had to wonder though, could Kristen have truly wanted to stay? Was it her own free will? It was hard to tell, when Erik had such an overpowering hold on people.

"MADAME GIRY!" A very gleeful male voice carried itself through the rotunda. It was Armande, and he was running down the stairs as if he were half mad. "We're saved! We're saved!" He laughed out joyously. "We've found a patron! We are being sponsored! And these blueprints of yours, they will be put to use as soon as next week!"

"That is grand" Madame Giry said. Before she could inquire as to who was to be this latest sponsor, a tired looking Meg Giry came around the corner yawning, as it was very late in the day, and she was dressed in her night clothes,

"Maman, is everything all right? I heard yelling."

Armande smiled with friendliness,

"Young Meg..." he said, "Of course, you will not believe the good news." He looked up at Antoinette, giving her the honour of voicing these greatest tidings to her daughter.

"Oh Meg!" Madame Giry said. Meg looked a bit startled. Her mother had given her such a look of pure joy. She had not seen that come out of this strict ballet instructor since the day La Carlotta had left Paris for good. "We are being funded! the Populaire shall be rebuilt after all!" she joyfully explained.

A small squeal of gladness passed through young Meg's lips, and before she knew it, she was both hands with Monsieur Armande, jumping up and down for joy.

"Oh mother, who is to be our patron?" she asked, wondering with infinite curiosity.

A smile came to her expression, "Who shall be our patron?" Meg repeated. With that, Armande's appearance paled somewhat, and he was silenced completely. Antoinette recognized the sudden discolouring of his cheeks, and only the worse thought came to her mind. The only time she ever saw Armande in this sort of worry, was when it regarded the Opera Ghost. Was it possible that the newest patrons of the Opera Populaire were the count and countess de Chagny?


	17. Love in other Words

**A/N: Alright, so here is starts, the beginning of a new school year. So you'll have to wait a bit longer for newly updated chapters from now on, but I promise to not leave you waiting for days like others have done to me in the past (Cries), joking, lol. Things should really start to get interesting from here on out, as we see some of the old characters come back to haunt the story.**

**Disclaimer: Do you think that If I owned the Phantom of the Opera, I would have let Christine leave with Raoul in the first place? OFCOURSE NOT! I don't own the Phantom, and I don't own its characters, all I can do is give him Kristen, and hope that it works out between them ..hehe..**

"I don't think this is such a good idea, Christine." Raoul said to his new wife, as they rode through the Paris country side in one of their many expensive horse carriages. Since leaving the Populaire, the two had been married immediately, and had stayed far away from Paris itself. Raoul had suggested that they travel out of the country altogether, to England even! But Christine could not bare the thought of leaving her home, which was France, and Raoul could deny her nothing.

She sat with her head against his shoulder, and allowed him to hold her softly. She was still very shaken by the ordeal of the Phantom of the Opera, and Raoul could easily tell that she would need comfort now, more than ever. Only, he could not understand why she would want to go back so soon, and it worried him that perhaps she felt she had some sort of unfinished business.

"I still feel as though the whole thing was my fault. The fire, the destruction... it all happened because of me." She fiddled with her wedding ring, both her hands laid very lady like, in her lap.

Raoul withdrew his arm from around her to touch her soft face, "You know why it happened Christine, and it was not your fault." He kissed her softly on the cheek, and gave her a gentle smile, "But I cannot understand how you can be so confident about returning this early after... everything."

Christine sighed gently, she knew what his worries were, and as she gazed out the window, the most heart warming scene she had ever witnessed was played out before her very eyes. Whether it be mere coincidence, or fate, what she was seeing was the Verlaine house, completely burnt to the ground and destroyed, but there stood a team of people, rebuilding it, a man and a woman, embracing... what had happened here? Obviously the result of a fire, but however bad it was, it was being fixed, and she knew now more than ever, that she had to help the Opera Populaire. Never had something inspired her to do the right thing before.

"He's dead Raoul." Christine said, her voice betraying the slightest bit of mourning. "You saw it in the paper last week, Erik is Dead." As read the headline. But somehow Raoul had a hard time believing that a man who could cut down a chandelier over an entire audience would be overrun so easily. Then again, he was supposedly heartbroken over the loss of his prisoner... Erik didn't deserve Christine, Raoul thought, not in a million years.

"I received a letter from Meg yesterday" She told him, continuing to use his shoulder as a head rest. "In it, she said that everyone is so grateful, and so happy that we are going to help them. The previous letters she sent just wreaked of their sadness and despair. We must do this Raoul, for Meg and Madame Giry's sake. They were my family ever since I was a child Raoul, we must give them the help they gave me when I was orphaned."

Raoul sighed, she was right, but then when could Raoul ever disagree with the likes of Christine? The woman whom had captured his heart both in their childhood and at the Populaire.

Although Christine had remained confident that the_Opera Ghost _posed no more threat, she could not help but feel, somewhere, that he was not truly dead. She always loved the sport of seeking things out, and certainly that article in the newspaper had never proven he was dead... there was no body, right? If he really wasn't dead, Christine knew she was heading into the heart of impending doom, but she could not just leave them there in the aftermath of destruction, which was half her fault to begin with.

"Your heart is like the ocean" Raoul told her, "There's room in it for everyone, isn't there." Christine smiled at him, and they shared a light kiss, as they continued on their way through the country side, and would eventually return home to their magnificent France estate.

Kristen yawned, but oh how she smiled. Never before had he kissed her like that, she still wondered how on earth they hadn't managed to commit the ultimate show of love, but he was obviously worried about getting her pregnant. And he had been right, when she was at that point of pure want, she didn't care about what their act could result in, and children were something that had to be planned for, would she even make a good mother?

He was so close, his warmth blanketing her as they stood together in the darkness of the lair. Somewhere in the middle of their passion, she had managed to rip the mask off his face, but she didn't give him a chance to argue the matter, unless he preferred to speak against her lips. Both of them had allowed the candles to flicker out one by one, not really even caring about what would happen should the last candle pilfer it's only spark of light. But then again, she had been able to memorize the entire layout of her new home when she was blind, this should not be any different.

"Kristen, how is your ankle feeling?" He asked her against her ear, he was torturing her with the way he was able to take pure control of her sense of reason.

"It hardly hurts at all" she told him. "As is the same with the rest of my injuries. Why?" she asked.  
"You should probably not remain in those bandages for much longer..."

Her heart began to race. Her mind began to wander at the very thought of being so... exposed to him.

"I don't know how to remove them." She said. She knew she was being a little devil right now, her voice betrayed that fact. Ever since she knew she loved him, all she wanted to do was show it, even if neither one of them had told each other those words yet, she knew that on some level, he must love her somehow.

He became instantly paralysed under the look she was giving him, that flame in her eyes was threatening to turn him to ashes. Just what in hell's name was she trying to do to him? He realized though, that she had him in a trap which he could not get out of, her bandages did need to be removed, or her skin would never be able to breathe, and now she was asking him to do it. It wasn't like before when she was so innocently asleep, and it was like taking care of a child, no, now she was Kristen Verlaine with her stubborn heart and fiery glance.

"You will have to do it" she told him. He turned from her to move towards the candle holders. He said nothing while he put new candles where the old ones had been, and lit them. Kristen's arms were folded across her chest, she was becoming quickly convinced that he was either incapable of giving her what she wanted, or that perhaps his heart was still beating in the palm of that ghastly Christine Daae.

Christine Daae, how beautiful was she anyway? She must have been like no other. She felt like sliding down the wall she leaned against, and crying. She was tired, and very exhausted at these thoughts and worries. Most of all, she was frustrated. Had a woman ever wanted a man this much? As a child she had been brought up to believe that these things must wait until after marriage, but right here and now, she was willing to give up her entire religion for him. And now it seemed he would not_really_ have her as he said he would that day.

"Why do you turn from me like this?" She asked, using whatever strength was left within her to calm her voice. "What is it about me that repels you so?"

Erik turned his whole face to her, what was it about _her_? His mind was so much more complex than his body. Unlike most human beings, including Kristen, his mind controlled everything. How many years had he longed to know what it was like to be with a woman? How many years had he known it would never happen? He realized it was affecting her though, he could see the sadness in her eyes, the agony of frustration. He knew what she was experiencing, for that was the very emotion he, through many years of pain and solitude, had learned to live with.

"You must be out of your mind, to think that it is you." He told her, fixing more of the candles.

"Why? you obviously don't want me" Kristen sighed, "If you did I would have been taken by now."

"God damn it Kristen, is that what you think? You think I don't want you?"

"Well what am I supposed to think? When you seem so determined to stay as distanced from me as possible?"

He walked to her, and upon standing right before her he looked down into her despairing eyes, "Kristen, you misunderstand the situation." he said.

"Do you love me?" she asked him, her voice too quiet for sound but too loud for a whisper. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with the tears that were filling them.

He did not reply. He couldn't reply. Did he love her? What was love? The only woman he had loved before, was Christine, who had not been his lover, merely his obsession. After a lifetime of not knowing love, did he even know it when he felt it? He was very fond of Kristen, he remembered looming over her bedside, contemplating giving his soul for her very recovery, he remembered crying so many times at her expense.

"You don't..." She surmised, his silence was all the evidence she needed, and she allowed those tears to roll down her cheeks. What was he doing? Killing himself, for one, for allowing her to cry again.

"When you were asleep..." He began, but with his words she turned her face from his, unable to look at him any more in the state of ultimate sadness she was feeling. "Kristen," He gently pulled her face back to meet his with one hand to her chin. "I swore on everything that was good, that I would give my very soul for your recovery. Do you know how much I cried for you when I thought you wouldn't wake up?" he asked. He was saying everything that was flooding through his mind... because he could not search for other explanations, he was becoming too distraught that she was even getting upset.

"No, I don't know," She whispered. He wiped away her tears.

"I don't know what love is, Kristen, but if it is any fraction of what I feel for you, than it is something quite spectacular."

Never had he seen such a look of despondency become such a look of beatitude on a woman's face. She could not believe the words which had just come from his mouth, their beauty quickly killed the pain in her heart. She wanted to laugh out in joy, but it would have been highly inappropriate.

"Erik..." She said, as tears continued to make their way down her beautiful features. What he said meant so much more to her than the simple, I love you, she was looking for. Her hand came up to place itself on the rugged side of his face, she was beginning to adore the very sight of him without his mask, as if this was not a deformity at all, it was just him, and the way he looked. "I have hardly words of such glory to speak to you," She told him, unable to take her hand from him.

"You don't have to speak," He told her, "Your eyes say everything for you."

That night, Erik removed her bandages. No longer that night did she beg for the thing she seemed to crave from him, his words however, never left her heart. Compared to him she felt so inferior, she could not come up with words of such poetry, and grace, but to just be with him was enough to keep her spirits high. When she asked him to spend the night with her, this he did not refuse. After dressing her in the loveliest white sleeping gown, the two of them slept in the swan bed. She had never fallen into dream faster than she did when he was holding her in his arms, she felt so safe, so comfortable, and so loved.

Madame Giry awoke from her slumber hours before daylight. Christine and Raoul de Chagny had sent another letter to her involving the extreme donations they were going to make, and the time of their upcoming arrival. What was going to happen? Things at the Populaire were already hectic, with Kristen now living with the Phantom, blind and as of yesterday, unconscious. She wondered if the girl had awaken yet... there was no time to worry about that now. If Erik cared for the girl he would not allow any ill fate to befall her.

She still couldn't believe that Christine had the courage the return to a place like this, after only weeks of it being the site of her most frightful nightmares come true. Though, she probably read that menacing article in the newspaper involving Erik's death. Some idiot wanting publicity had simply told the public what they wanted to hear, gained his little moment of fame and then fell back into shadow as did most of the journalists. Publicity, Madame Giry thought while shaking her head. It was a harmful, and on some occasions, deadly thing.

Meg had given up reading that stupid script, as had most of the dancers. It was pointless for a dancer to read the story line any way, when all they had to know what the choreographing, and with Madame Giry being so tied up with the affairs of the Populaire, they were all losing interest in the opera itself.

"You are not yourself this morning." Antoinette told her daughter as they sat together and ate the toast and jam which was their usual menu for breakfast. Meg knew her mother could see right through her, but she could not tell this secret... her mother could not see the real truth through her eyes anyway, only that she was hiding something.

"Am I not?" She asked, biting into her toast.

"No, my dear" she said. "Your best friend in the world is returning, and you look as if you have seen a ghost."

This could prove to be a most disastrous situation if she did not take control of it quickly, so for the first time in her life, she proceeded to become a bit of a sneak, using this as a means of keeping her secret, and getting from her mother what was needed to ensure Kristen's happiness.

"It's just that... Maman, I don't think you should take Kristen away from the Phantom." She said. She knew his name and still she could not call him by it.

"Is this the sort of thing that goes through my daughter's mind this early in the morning?" Madame Giry asked.

"What if she truly wants to stay?" Meg asked, "The poor girl has nothing and no one, and from what I've seen, the only one who wants her out of there is you. I saw him Maman, he takes such good care of her, I think he truly cares for her."

"Him? The man who has made it his life's pursuit to plant fear in the minds of everyone who comes to this theatre? You are out of your mind Meg, perhaps I should be taking_you_ to see Dr. Perdoux."

"How can you laugh at me so?" Meg asked with frustration, "You think I don't know these things? He sat at her bedside and I literally saw tears flowing from his eyes!"

"You don't know these things Meg!" her mother said to her, growing more and more incapable of holding within herself these feelings of outrage. "The whole situation is way more complicated than you think, and just because someone cries does not mean that it is for the person they are standing before."

Meg fell silent. She couldn't finish her breakfast. How could her mother turn from such a nice woman to such a cold monster within the space of two seconds? Her years as a ballet instructor had changed her into too much of an authoritative figure. Perhaps her years and lack of friendship had done this to her, though Meg still wondered how she could say such things to her own daughter, or perhaps she was taking what she said the wrong way. She quickly left the table and found some darkened corridor to weep in.

You don't know these things, she could hear it over and over again in her mind. All her life she had been surrounded by stories of romance, and surrounded by friends who found it. Never until now had she questioned why she was not the very subject of these tales, and these blossoming romances. Her mother had said it clearly to her this morning, as if she was frustrated that Meg had not found some young man to marry her. One by one her fellow dancers had been picked by some member of gentry, or high society, rarely did the poor man frequent the Opera, and many of the single and rich men favoured what they saw from the dancers. But never her...

Christine had been her best friend for many years, until Raoul had come and taken her away. At least with Kristen, her new found love was residing only a few stories below her very feet. But it was still only the people who surrounded her who seemed to be the lucky ones. Madame Giry had always figured her daughter would be seen and adored by some young man, but as it neared her nineteenth birthday, it seemed things would not be as they were predicted.

"Perhaps I am the one to end up alone in all of this" Young Meg sobbed to herself, her forehead to her knees, and her arms covering her head.


	18. Companion

**A/N: Last chapter before school starts, I'll try to write tomorow, when I'm not sitting in the doom that is the average class room. Please Read and Review, I love all of your comments! You make my days all the more joyfull when you leave reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters.**

Kristen awoke after a series of peaceful visions. She could remember something along the lines of a wedding day, of course, Erik was there throughout all of them. It was one thing she hated, never being able to remember what she dreamed when she woke up with her mind so full of thought.

His arms, which were still around her, and his closeness, had completely dispelled the memory of her dreams. He held her with her back to him, both of them completely shrouded by the covers. The cold air of the dungeon seemed to be non-existent as she savoured the warmth they created together. She soon realized, however, that he was not awake. She turned over very slowly to face him, quite relieved that she had managed not to wake him in the process.

She smiled. She was glad he didn't pull something incredibly stubborn in the middle of the night like leave the bed to retrieve his mask or something of the like. The first time she had kissed him, she could feel it clashing with her skin, and now, looking at him, she realized she sort of hated that mask. But never could she imagine telling him not to wear it. She knew he was uncomfortable exposing his rather... colourful features. She was just happy he could expose them to her.

She watched him as he slept. Surprisingly, some of the candles he had lit, were still burning. Perhaps it wasn't so bad that he left her to replace them last night, or she may have awaken to complete darkness. She couldn't imagine the sort of panic she would feel upon waking to complete darkness... she could picture herself questioning whether it was just lack of light, or if she had actually gone blind again.

She exhaled slowly, purely sated. Nothing made her feel this good inside, than being with him. She snuggled close to him and closed her eyes, though as she had done this she could feel him beginning to stir. Foolish girl, she thought to herself. Unless he decided to stay with her that morning, she would be kicking herself for allowing him to get up and leave the comfortable confines of their silky resting place.

"Kristen..." She heard him whisper, in a very groggy and quiet voice. Immediately she smiled, she couldn't help it.

"If I thought it was morning, I would wish you good morning... but it is a rather difficult pursuit, trying to guess the time when there are no windows." She said with a hint of cheerfulness. He moved to rest on his back, and she was nearly on top of him in the following seconds. He couldn't disagree. He used to keep close watch on the time, as he took personal joy in watching the rehearsals of the Populaire, but since the fire, everything seemed to have gone to hell up there, and time just wasn't an issue any more.

"Did you dream?" She asked him, as she rested her head on his chest. Both his arms folded around her as he held her lovingly. Nothing, he thought, was better than waking next to her. He pondered her question a while,

"If I did, I honestly can't remember." He told her in truth. "Why, did you?" He asked. And she froze. Almost instantly she could feel a nervous lump in her throat. Damn you! she thought towards herself as she searched her mind for the right words.

"You didn't have nightmares, did you?" he asked, when she was finding difficulty in her answer.

"No," she told him, "If my dreams had been nightmares, than I shall want more of them." He slightly sat up, obviously gaining interest in her nightly illusions. She slightly laughed with a nervous hint, this was going to be difficult. "I thought I... I thought I was hearing wedding bells, in my dreams."

"Wedding bells?" he asked, "Whose wedding?"

Kristen could feel the blood racing to her face in form of a serious blush. She cursed her body and it's annoying way of betraying her thoughts.

"Ours?" Erik asked. When the smile broke out onto her face, he knew he had guessed correctly.

"Oh, please don't laugh at me Erik," She begged as he began to chuckle at her. She grabbed a pillow and lightly tossed it at him, turning over to face her back to him only to be pulled closely to his form.

"People who try to bring me harm don't always get away you know," he said against her ear,

"What harm am I doing?" She asked, in the heat of this amusing moment.

"Throwing things at the Opera Ghost..."

Kristen shuddered with a strange pleasure at hearing him say that. Still, even after she had got to know him, the whole prospect of being with the infamous opera ghost greatly excited her, and it was then that she remembered one of their previous conversation regarding her future at the Populaire.

Though, before she could utter out another syllable, her stomach spoke for her, growling unpleasantly from beneath the covers.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her, looming over her from behind, and moving some strands of her hair back so as to get a clearer view of her face. She nodded in response, "Considerably" She told him, sitting up. "Do you even have food here? Or is it your usual daily routine to steal from the kitchens of the Populaire?" she asked.

He shook his head, "No, I have many ways of obtaining food." he told her, as he pulled the sheets back and climbed out of bed. Instantaneously she realized that he had slept with nearly all of his day clothes, excluding that heavy black coat, and cape, which he almost never wore any more anyway. That could have been her fault, after all, she had asked him to sleep beside her, she had to wonder if he always slept in his regular clothes.

He moved around to her side of the bed and gently helped her out, taking in the very sight of her. That gorgeous gown she wore only accented her beauty. She truly did look like a goddess. "There is a kitchen, you know." he told her. At this she found herself frowning in wonder,

"Here?" she asked.

He brought her out into the rest of the lair and pulled back a curtain for her. How could she have missed it? As it seemed those red drapes didn't only conceal a stone wall and a mirror passage!

"How in the world could this have been here without me realizing it?" She asked, as she was led into the very room which he called the kitchen. It was a very dark place, and not very big. The table was of the most elegant fashion, very dark wood with twisting designs in it's legs and outer corners. The chairs seemed to be something out of a fantasy themselves. There were cabinets, though their windows were severely dusted. Despite it's small size, everything was of the most exquisite, and expensive nature. In the far corner there was a wood stove, also decorated in it's glory, and the set of pots and pans which sat within the dusted windows of the cherry wood cabinets could have been fit for a king or queen.

"You were blind" he told her. "I'm sure if you had had your eyes since you came here, you would have found it on your own." His tone was rather accusing, as if to call her, in a very non serious way, some sort of snoop.

"You think I would have searched your home?" She asked. He shrugged,

"Well, you were a bit angry with me when you first came." he said.

"Well you kept leaving! and you wouldn't help me out of bed!."

"I did... didn't I?" He asked.

"Yes, after much prying." She concluded. He sighed in defeat, he could never win with this woman. "Which brings me to that one question I've been meaning to ask since regaining the use of my sight. What is behind that wooden door to the very far corner of this realm?" she asked.

There was a strange moment of silence there, and it bothered her that she could not figure out what he was thinking.

Could he really tell her? Would he ever be able to show her? In his own bedroom, everything that could describe his heart, soul, and not to mention horrid past, was stored there, no... he would never be able to show her. What would her reaction be upon discovering such evils? Loathing or disgust?

"It is only my bedroom, you wouldn't want to see it, it is nothing more than that... just a bedroom." He told her, "Now come with me, there is no food in this kitchen and I'm sure you would be very interested to start learning your way around the hidden passages of this theatre."

"After I dress, of course." She told him, and moved past him to allow herself entry to the centre domain.

She moved through the lair on her way back to her bedchamber, during the time her back was to him she was eyeing that wooden door. Obviously he didn't want her in there, what could he possibly be hiding? Erik rapidly followed her,

"There are other dresses, if you would like." he told her. It suddenly dawned on her that it was very strange that this man had so many items of a woman's attire.

"Where did they all come from?" She asked suddenly curious, but as she saw him turn his face from her, she realized the answer before he could even reply. "Oh.. I'm sorry," She said. She couldn't be angry at him for this, obviously he had spent a great many months planning for young Christine to be his bride. What greatly surprised her was that the dresses seemed to fit her.

"Don't be," he told her, "You had nothing to do with that."

"How do they fit me?" She asked, "If they were meant for... her?"

He walked into her bedroom and opened up a cabinet to the brilliant wooden wardrobe. "It wasn't hard to fix them, I managed to obtain your measurements the first night, when I rescued you... I couldn't have very well left you in that shredded fabric, could I?" Her mouth opened wide... so he_had_ done more than just change her bandages. She saw that smirk appear across his face, she thought about throwing another pillow at his head, but decided against it.

"You are a very attractive woman, Kristen" he added with humour, knowing it would bother her on some level.

She scoffed then, though incapable of withholding that tiny smile, "Some gentleman you are..." She declared, as he tossed her a dark gown of red silk.

"Don't be long" he told her. As he passed her on the way out he gave her the most devilish grin she had ever seen out of him, she nearly jumped him in fury right there for taking so much enjoyment at the thought of seeing her without clothes on, but she didn't. She had been nearly laughing herself, and decided it best to let this thing slide. Though, the whole time it took her to dress into that extraordinary array, the thought of that wooden door, and whatever could possibly be on the other side of it, would not stray from her mind no matter how hard she attempted to forget it.

"You look... amazing" Erik told her as she stepped out from her bedroom and into the dismal light of the candles. She walked towards him and gave him a kiss that was perhaps unsuitable for the mood and moment. Deep was the affection which he felt from her, and which he returned. She had completely changed the atmosphere of the room with that one kiss, did she have more power over him than he was letting himself believe?

"Now take me with you." She told him, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her from the underground terrain. She held in a sigh of discontent when she saw him return the mask to his face. Did he never go anywhere without it? She wouldn't ask, she had to accept it, no matter how greatly she wished to see him discard it.

All the while he led her through the blackness of the tunnels, he could not stop thinking of the kiss she had just given him. Warm and passionate, as if it really WAS the kiss to conceal a marriage. Did she wish to marry him? He couldn't help but wonder. It was normally the man's job to propose to the woman of his heart... hadn't that ended harshly the first time? he pondered.

"Where exactly are we going?" she whispered to him. She didn't know why she was keeping her voice down, she just had this strange feeling that these tunnels were not to be spoken in. She could feel his hand tighten around hers, and she smiled.

"We're going to get you some food first" He told her, in the same silent whisper. She nodded. "And you?"

"If I can find enough for the both of us, then I will eat... but I will not let my companion go hungry."

She almost giggled. And she never giggled! his companion? She wanted to pull him to her and...

"I'm not sure how much they have around here, as I said before, they are rather low in supplies."

"I'm sure that whatever you can get for me will be enough" she murmured, as he led her up one very steep set of stairs, and a few moments later, there were voices to be heard.

"That Jerk! THAT IDIOT!"

Erik frowned, "One of the cooks" he whispered very quietly to her, as they listened. There was a small crack in the wall from which they could peer out into the kitchen.

"DINNER FOR FIVE! WE HAVE BARELY ENOUGH TO SUFFICE OUR OWN STAFF, LET ALONE VISITORS!"

Erik's frown only deepened. He had never seen the cook, M. Jacque, so distraught about anything before. This man was one of the funniest, most cheerful men who ran the kitchens, why on earth would he be so red in the face this day?

"Calm down sir, I'm sure it can be managed!" Said a young boy of no more than sixteen or seventeen, obviously a servant or waiter.

"Do you realize that some of our staff will go hungry tonight because Monsieur's Armande and Firmin want to treat a few guests?"

"Yes, yes, I know... all of that is quite selfish. If it will help the situation, I will forfeit my own dinner tonight."

M. Jacque breathed out a sigh of great distress, "Those men don't care about the theatre Christopher... they think they own the people who work for them. Never, ever let yourself become like them, or you will be hated by all."

Christopher, who seemed the optimistic kind, only nodded, and began to pull out some ingredients, "We will do what we can, and if they don't like it, they'll just have to find some other sorry chap to execute their wishes."

Kristen sighed quietly, "We can't steal from them" She whispered. Even Erik had a hard time understanding her words, she was being so quiet.

"Why?"

"Look at them, look at him, and that poor boy, they're giving up their own daily ration so they can dote upon strangers..."

"What will you eat?"

"I will manage" Kristen whispered, "If I start to feel weak, then you can worry."

"But..."

"No, Erik. Take me somewhere else, I will think of something else we can do besides steal from these poor people."

He whispered out a sigh, "Fine." he said. When had he become hooked up with such a kind hearted woman? Oh yeah, wasn't that Madame Giry's fault? He thought, slightly annoyed at her generosity, but those were only surface thoughts. He knew he would be damned without this woman, he'd known that since... when had he started feeling these things?

He took her arm in his and led her down the hallway. All the while she couldn't stop thinking about how scary, and simply lovely this labyrinth of tunnels was. She had always had a soft spot in her heart for things that brought chills to the spine. It all started when she was about three years old and her mother let her keep that pet spider... Of course it died when she accidentally squished it on the floor, and oh how she cried afterwards.

"How many more steps?" She asked, after climbing so many stairs, she was growing considerably exhausted.

"Not many" he told her under his breath. Finally, they entered a small room, with a spectacular view of a very destroyed theatrical auditorium.

"Box five?" she asked. He nodded,

"Yes. I used to come here every night to watch the performances."

"And they never tried to stop you?"

"Oh yes, they tried many times."

"Why didn't they succeed?" she asked. She could see the muscle's in his neck begin to tighten. He was about to give gratitude to that pesky woman which Kristen was fighting him to give forgiveness to.

"Madame Giry... was of some assistance."

Kristen grinned, "See, you really should forgi..." she was cut off, when his lips seemed to plunge down over top of hers. Well, it could have been worse, she thought. He could have just said it... Shut up love.

The sound of footsteps echoed off the walls of the auditorium, and the sound of sobs seemed to thunder throughout the open space. Kristen lightly shoved Erik off of her to peer out. He, in turn, did the same. Both of them watched from the shadows of box 5. as young Meg girl fell into one of the undamaged seats in the audience, crying her pretty blue eyes out. Kristen grew worried, as it seemed. What was she crying about? The girl looked to be muffling her sobs, as if she wanted no one to hear. Finding this part of the theatre empty, she figured it was a safe haven to reflect on some of her more dreaded inner emotions, but apparently not.

"What must be wrong with her?" Kristen wondered, as she looked to Erik with concern.

"I don't know," he whispered into her ear, "Why don't you go find out?"

"G... Go?" She asked,

"Why not, I'm not holding you."


	19. The Return of a Heartbreaker

**A/N: Hey readers, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to get this on the net sooner:(, school + annoying family members... I think you get the meaning. Anyway, I've got big plans for Meg, but you'll just have to wait and see what they are. And yes, I now project that nasty, devious little laugh that was commented on by my good friend L2C, MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You'll never believe who she ends up with, not in a million years. Although, you can try to guess and we'll see who gets it right! Now... On with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters.**

Kristen walked nervously down the pathway of destruction. Not once did she touch solid floor, as the rubble and ashes covered the entire area. Young Meg wasn't crying any longer, but by the looks of her, curled up in that seat, staring up at the stage, she was still very distraught.

Although she was quiet, she could not help but worry that someone besides Meg, and Erik, would catch her there. If Madame Giry happened to find her up and about, with the use of her eyes, she knew that her days at the Populaire would be numbered. She came upon the saddened girl, why was she crying? Meg was always in the most cheerful of moods, what had happened to make her so unhappy?

"Meg?" Kristen whispered. Almost instantly Meg jumped to her feet, the poor girl looked scared out of her wits at the very sound of Kristen's voice.

"Shhh, it's only me" Kristen murmured silently. Meg sighed in alleviation,

"My God, I thought you were my mother," She said, between deep breaths. "What are you doing here?" She wiped away her tears as she spoke, and gave her friend the most questioning look.

"Erik was showing me around the theatre," She articulated, "He was showing me box 5. and I... I couldn't help but notice you were... Meg please tell me what's wrong" Kristen begged, with worry. She'd never seen Meg sad before, it was new and almost alarming.

Meg returned to her seat, and just stared up at the set, even after all this time, some remnants of Don Juan Triumphant remained. "I don't think you would understand, even if I_did_ tell you."

"Is it serious?" Kristen asked, sitting in the seat beside Meg, which also went unharmed.

"About as serious as one's future can be..." Meg voiced mournfully, "You won't believe the things my mother said to me." The poor girl covered her face, now she had embarrassment to add to her melancholy, and she wished Kristen had not found her this way. Everything would be better if she could have just kept these feelings a secret.

Kristen's brow elevated in sympathy, so it was something Madame Giry said to her to make her so sad? "I really don't mean to be... an intruder of personal business, but perhaps it would make you feel better to talk about it." She said softly.

Meg shook her head, "Nothing can doctor this, they're so true... my mother's words. I am nearing the end of my courting age, Kristen! and not one suitor has called on me."

"Oh, but Meg, all hope is not lost, you still have many years ahead of you."

"Yes," Meg retorted, "Many years to watch my best friends get married and move away, while I stay here with my mother in this God awful theatre, dancing away my last years of youth. I'm frightened Kristen..."

"But, what did she say to you to make you feel such agony?"

Meg sniffled, and wiped away further tears which had managed to slide down her rosy cheeks,

"I was trying to get her to warm up to the idea of letting you stay here... She told me I didn't know what I was talking about, when I spoke of..."

"Spoke of?" Kristen asked.

Meg covered her face. The word 'love' would not allow itself past her lips. She knew that if she said it, she would burst out into tears once more, and she could not do that in front of Kristen, whom had been through so much more. Seeking pity from a woman like Kristen Verlaine was just wrong.

"I've been so stupid, to spend so many years smiling for others without any regard of my own affairs. What will I do when my dancing career is over? Everyone knows that a dancer's career ends in her mid 20's, Where will I go from there? I'm frightened..."

"Don't be frightened Meg," Kristen said, putting a hand to her friend's shoulder, "Everyone goes through this, it is no big deal."

"Not for you it's not... Will you someday marry Erik, and leave me here, just like Christine did?" And just as Meg said the sentence, she realized that they were on the very brink Christine and Raoul's return, and Kristen didn't know yet. She quickly covered her mouth, and gave Kristen a wide eyed stair, through her pools of bloodshot blue.

"Meg," Kristen sort of chuckled, "I don't think you have to worry about _that_, I mean, he lives _here_... you know" she said, but soon realized that the look her friend was giving her was not the result of her paining thoughts. "Meg? are you all right?" she asked.

"Oh Kristen, I've got some frightfully horrible news to tell you," She said.

"What is it?" Kristen inquired curiously

"We're being..."

"MEG?" The distant echo of Madame Giry's voice rang through one of the many passage ways and out into the main theatre.

"Kristen!" Meg whispered in panic, "It's my mother... I cannot allow her to see me like this!" she said,

Kristen's eyes grew wide, "She can not see me at all!"

But before any given plan of escape could be executed, the two of them were faced with the horror of a very shocked Madame Giry. The elderly woman froze in her tracks at the very scene, her lovely daughter, crying, and Kristen, in the upper part of the theatre. Madame Giry's intentions were originally to warn Meg that Christine would soon arrive, but now, with what she saw, her mind seemed to be completely erased.

"Kristen!" Madame Giry watched as Kristen looked her directly in the eye. This was no blind woman. "You have regained your sight?"

"Please Madame, I can explain." Kristen said.

Madame Giry's eyes lit up, "My child, you are free!" She said, "Please tell me he has let you go."

Kristen's expression seemed to change from that of worry, to that of mild anger. "Madame, I was never his prisoner."

Antoinette took a step closer to Kristen, "I never thought I would see the day that you would look out into the world with working eyes. But how? How is it that you were not his prisoner?"

"I should be thanking you," Kristen said, "If it were not for you, this would not have happened. It must have been the fall, when I hit my head, something must have happened."

"No doubt, but I still don't understand... how..."

"Madame Giry, you cannot make me leave this place. I love the Populaire, and I love..." She paused. The words nearly rolled off her tongue as if they were the easiest words in the world to say, but was it wise to tell this woman of her feelings towards Erik?

"Dear girl, I hope I was not about to hear what I think I was about to hear."

Kristen sighed. It was high time that Madame Giry learned the truth, before matters became seriously out of hand.

"I love him, Madame."

Antoinette's eyes became a shade darker. Kristen was either under a spell, or a mad woman.

"Are you... sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life" Kristen said. Kristen had known that Erik was in box 5, watching them, but as of now she'd completely forgotten, and Madame Giry had no idea he was even there. As he listened from where he sat, he could not believe the feelings which were being created within him. She loved him? Kristen Verlaine. His eyes closed. This was the very moment he never thought would happen, but did. Soon after hearing these words, box 5, was empty. When Kristen returned to the lair, it would not be a lair... it would be a home, which she could tolerate to live in throughout the rest of her life.

"Madame Giry." A new sound seemed to circle around them. The soft voice of Christine de Chagny was brought to their ears. Meg, who had been greatly upset, quickly forgot her perils upon seeing her best friend standing in the doorway.

"Christine!" Meg shouted, running up the ruined audience path to embrace her old friend tightly. Kristen seemed to yawn with slight sarcasm,

"Well, it does feel nice to be completely forgotten," Kristen said to Madame Giry, but the woman's eyes were also transfixed on the beauty that was Christine. Kristen also averted her eyes towards the young woman standing before them, and she could certainly see why Erik had thought her so precious. This woman... well, the only thing that could be said was that there was never a woman more beautiful.

Christine smiled widely, her cheeks were filled with a colour that none of them had seen on her since way before the tragedy of the Opera. "Meg, my darling, it is so wonderful to see you again," She said, with her soft and lovely voice.

Kristen turned her face from Christine, she immediately realized that compared to this woman, she was... hideous. The marks on her brow would certainly prove that. Madame Giry saw this, and could only sigh soundlessly. No one's beauty surpassed Christine's, and she knew that Kristen was intimidated.

"Does he love you?" Madame Giry asked Kristen quietly, hoping Christine would not hear.

Kristen slightly smiled, "He said words far greater than any which could describe love."

"If he does, then Christine will no longer matter to him."

"Madame Giry, he was obsessed with her! Of course she will still matter to him."

Their small conversation came to a quick end as Raoul burst through the doors, juggling three or four quite heavy suit cases. Madame Giry smiled, this would not be a moment of sadness, or worry.

"Christine, come here, I would like to introduce you to Kristen Verlaine. She is our newest resident at the Populaire."

Christine walked towards them smiling, although, coming closer to Kristen she began to see the marks upon the young woman's face, and although she tried to hide it, the curiosity and slight concern was not completely hidden from her eyes.

Christine held out her delicate hand to Kristen, and they shook in friendly salutation. "Perhaps you can tell me all about how you came to live here," Christine said fondly, remembering her years at the Populaire. "Madame Giry, it hurts to see this place in such ruin, I am so glad to be able to help you"

"No, we are very grateful for your patronage, a few more weeks and we would have been permanently finished."

Christine's large chocolate eyes became a bit moist with sentimentality as she looked around the theatre, until suddenly she was brought out of her silent reverie by a very exhausted Raoul,

She quietly giggled, "I'm sorry love," She said, picking up the suit case that had fallen from his hands to the floor. "Madame, where will our living quarters be?" she asked. Madame Giry bit her lip. Certainly not her old room, not with the Phantom still lurking about.

"There is a lovely suite in the west wing, completely untouched by the fire. You may reside there until this place is rebuilt, come, I will show you."

Christine shook her head in protest, "Perhaps you could show Raoul to our room, I will take this" She emptied his hands of one more suite case, "And I will be along shortly. Please just let me catch up with Meg, and get to know Ms. Verlaine a little better." Raoul gave her a soft kiss on the cheek,

"Anything you wish, Christine" he said, his voice was that of a man who truly loved his wife. Madame Giry had never seen Christine smile so much, she seemed positively radiant, almost glowing. The three women watched as Antoinette led Raoul out of the theatre, and Christine began to giggle slightly,

"I've missed this place so..." Christine confessed happily. Meg frowned,

"Even after everything?" she asked.

Christine lightly sighed, "Things which lie in the past should not be dwelt upon. What happened was terrible, and I still feel very horribly for what happened, but it's over. All we can do is walk forward." Upon these words Kristen smiled, perhaps a little more than she should have. Christine looked at this peculiar woman, wondering how it was that she came to be here, and wondering other things.

"So... Ms. Verlaine," She said.

"Please, it's Kristen." She said. She felt extremely awkward speaking in friendly terms with the woman who broke poor Erik's heart. She should have felt jealous right now, that this woman had once possessed his heart,but she couldn't. She could only feel bad that this woman had caused the man that she loves, any sort of pain at all. But she would not let these emotions show. If she was going to function at the Populaire, and amongst these people especially, she had to get along with them, otherwise she would be doomed by constant conflict.

"All right... Kristen... How did you come to live here?" she asked.

"My family suffered a house fire in the country. In the misfortune, I was blinded. I was brought to the doctors in Paris... to make a long story short, there was nothing they could do for my sight, so my doctor contacted Madame Giry, who brought me in to live here until they could find an opening in a blind school."

"But... you can see fine," Christine commented.

Kristen nodded, "Well, during my stay here, some rather unexpected things happened. In fact, I came to the Populaire not long before the performance of Il muto, I heard everything from my room..."

Christine gasped, "You then... know of... O.G?"

Kristen slightly smiled, "I know the whole story. I was in the audience when you performed in Don Juan, you sang beautifully." She said. "How I regained my eyesight was a bit of a miracle." She explained.

Christine's eyes grew wide, "You lived here through all of that and you had the fortitude to stay?"

Kristen so wanted to tell Christine everything. She wanted to tell her that she now loved the man which this woman was so content with leaving behind, but no... it would have to wait, or perhaps Meg would open her slippery little mouth for her.

Christine smiled, "Well, I'm glad you stayed, I think we shall be great friends." Kristen could see her eyes roaming over the scars which marred her brow,

"It happened in the house fire," she deciphered, knowing the question which was hanging somewhere on the tip of the countess's tongue. Christine nodded in understanding,

"When I first saw you, I thought you were in costume." Christine admitted.

Kristen's brows knitted together in her obvious confusion. "What kind of costume?"

"Oh, just from far away it looked as if you wore a sort of design, like that of a fairy, or queen... I've seen a lot of makeup work done... I'm sorry if I offended you," she said.

Kristen shook her head, "Not at all," she said, "I'm just glad my face wasn't melted off."

Meg began laughing at Kristen's joke, Kristen joined in, and in turn, Christine also shared in the humour. It was easy to see, for Kristen anyway, why Christine was so able to leave the dungeons so readily. The girl was a total child. She was completely innocent, and fragile. Kristen almost laughed when she saw the likes of Raoul though, so pathetic and weakly looking, Christine having to offer two hands in order to carry their luggage, which so so obviously the gentleman's job! She couldn't be mad at Christine, the woman was just ignorant, and no more than that.

Although she participated in such joy, there was a serious feeling of unease in the Meg's heart. Christine was back! Kristen loved Erik, and Erik had once loved Christine. Someone's heart may yet be broken, even though the peak of their tragedy was far in the past. Christine would have to know the truth about Erik's supposed death, and Kristen could not be present when that happened.

In almost perfect timing, Raoul and Madame Giry returned. "Come Christine, it is almost time for dinner," Madame Giry announced. Kristen nearly snorted. She remembered the conversation between the cook and the waiter, these people were basically stealing food! Not that it was the de Chagny's fault, but certainly it could be blamed on Madame Giry and the managers. Christine nodded, and walked over to them, still carrying the suite cases. When Raoul offered to carry them for her, she simply denied his help, and insisted on carrying them herself. Kristen nearly snorted again, she couldn't imagine how Christine could have given up Erik for the piteous likes of Raoul.

Meg happily waltzed over to her best friend's side, as she was invited to this dinner along side her mother. This gave Antoinette the perfect opportunity to go over to Kristen, while the other three chatted mindlessly about stupid topics.

"My dear," Antoinette began, "You truly love Erik?" She asked in a very low whisper.

"I do, Madame" Kristen said, "Is it so hard to believe?"

"Well, you can only imagine how hard it is to believe... Is your wish truly to stay, within the Populaire?"

Kristen sighed, she was getting sick of answering these questions, "Yes Madame, If you will leave well enough alone, I should like to continue living here until I live no longer."

It was an extremely difficult thing for Madame Giry to do, give in to the wishes of this beautiful young woman, especially since her wishes were to live with a mad man, but apparently the girl had her heart set on him, and if there was one thing she would never forgive herself for doing, it would be destroying the last chance Erik had to be happy on this earth.

"All right Kristen, I will interfere no longer. But you must give me one thing in return" said the woman, and she spoke with the most serious air Kristen had ever witnessed.

"What is that?" she questioned.

"You must ensure that he no longer plagues the theatre with his influence."

Kristen gave Giry a look of confusion, causing the elder woman to sigh,

"No more interrupting Opera's, no more scaring little ballet dancers, no more dropping sets on singer's heads!"

Kristen covered her mouth to hold back laughter, which obviously annoyed Madame Giry, "It isn't funny" She argued.

"Oh yes... yes it is" Kristen replied, and hugged Meg's mother warmly, "This means so much to me, Madame, thank you," She said. In her eyes, traces of tears of happiness could be seen.

"Now go, I am terribly sorry you were not invited to dinner, If I would have known you were not blind, you would have had a place at the table. I am sorry, I must go now." Giry explained, returning to Meg and the de Chagny's.

Meg watched Kristen walk off into the darkness, and she knew what she had to do. After dinner, she was going to tell Christine that the Phantom of the Opera still haunted the Populaire.


	20. Passion

**A/N: WARNING! R RATING! Yeah, I know, I haven't updated in forever... I've been swamped in homework, you can all curse and swear at my teachers for delaying my lovely little story. Anyway, If you don't like scenes with sexual content, then exit right now! Otherwise, I really hope you don't hate this, I've never done this kind of writing before... and I'm a bit worried. Please read and Review, I need your reviews, without them, my world is just so empty (:p)**

**Diclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters... DAMN IT! IT NEVER GETS ANY EASIER! walks off whistling (You have to see the South Park movie to get this joke)**

Kristen stepped only as far as the shadows, and then she turned to watch the others walk towards their awaited meals. She sighed, what would happen if Erik found out that Christine was back? She had the urge to hide him away and never let him find out, but that wouldn't work. Erik was far too clever to allow something as important as Christine's return to pass him by without notice.

She watched as they all laughed, making cheer as if the Populaire was already on it's feet again, Christine looked happiest of them all. Kristen leaned against a marble stone pillar, and sighed. If only she was half as beautiful as Christine, perhaps she would be with child by now... over the course of the past few days, the prospect of motherhood seemed to occupy her thoughts more than ever. As she watched this scene of delight, she held her stomach. Would a child ever grace her life?

As she entered the darkness of box 5, she quickly discovered his absence. Where was he now? Did he leave before or after Christine arrived? Sudden panic began to take over her calm demeanour, and she quickly left the box, rushing down the dreary tunnels towards the lair, as quickly as her feet would allow her. But as she scurried through the corridors, she could once again hear the festive sounds of the de Chagnys, the Girys, and M. Armande. She had not an answer for why M. Firmin was missing.

She came to an abrupt halt, stopping before the small ray of light which seemed to pierce it's way through the dark. How clever, she thought. Upon peering out through this hole, she realized that her eye was not detected by the people she so easily observed. It was purposely arranged there, the eye of a portrait cut out to allow the man... or in this case, woman, to view the activities of this dining room from behind it. Erik was a genius, Kristen thought with a mischievous little grin controlling her lips, as she eavesdropped on the behaviours of her friends and enemies. He must have millions of these situated throughout the Populaire.

"We were married instantly after!" Kristen watched Raoul declare with happiness.

"Did you not have intentions to go to sea?" Madame Giry asked with ready curiosity. Raoul shook his head no at her,

"Do you think I could go to sea so soon after making Christine my wife?"

Christine smiled. Everything was perfect... the Populaire would be restored, and Erik was dead, right? Wrong, Kristen thought, speculating the contents of what must have been going through Christine's head at this hour.

"I am very happy everything turned out the way it should have. That ghastly Opera Ghost will never haunt these walls again." Madame Giry proclaimed. Of course she knew that Erik lived... but she was quite content with keeping that a secret.

M. Armande seemed to choke on his red wine at these words. All of them directed their attention to him, and Madame Giry glared mad fire his way, warning him with her evil stare that if he should expose the secret of the Opera Ghost, he would not have lungs to breathe with in the morning. Who, after all, had sent those blueprints, other than Erik himself?

It was quite evident that Christine's spirits were rather lowered over the memory of Erik. Ghastly? She sighed lightly, and waited patiently for the food to be served.

There was already a lump forming in young Meg's throat. How long would this dinner last? and how would Christine react to the knowledge of Erik's survival?

Kristen watched with disgust as the food was brought in. Her own stomach was torturing her now with hunger, she had not eaten throughout the entire day, and most of the day previous. She would not be the only person to go hungry in the theatre that day. The de Chagnys were rich, were they not? Couldn't they have gone out to eat?

"I think it would be appropriate to leave such... talk... out of the conversation." Raoul interfered, taking Christine's hand softly and leaning over to her. In a whisper, he asked, "My dear, are you going to be ok?" She only nodded to him,

"It shouldn't be kept a secret. Everyone knows of the incidents which led to the unfortunate collapse of the Opera. We all must realize as well, that it was he who set me free. It was a kindness he did not have to bestow upon me, but did. We should not look down upon such a tortured soul, he suffered far greater than I did while under his capture."

Everyone at the table listened to this former Opera singer in amazement. How could she be so kind towards a man who'd committed so many crimes? Madame Giry watched her with a fondness she only rarely showed her best ballet dancers. Christine was the purest of women, in her opinion.

Kristen could watch no longer. It was bad enough that Armande nearly blurted out the well hidden truth, but Christine spoke of Erik as if she defended him... as if he was somehow in her heart. She turned from her place of survey to head back down through the tunnel. After seeing Christine Daae, or de Chagny, or whatever the hell she was called, she could not stop comparing herself to her. She was ugly... she thought, compared to this queen of beauty.

After braving the mazes and hidden chambers of the opera house, Kristen finally found her way to that familiar mirror passage. She must have spent ages in the dark, contracting all sorts of cob webs, dust and dirt, which would make her lovely red gown as filthy as a wash cloth. She didn't care, at this point. She wanted to rid herself of these clothes any way, dress in something a little less formal, and return to her silk heaven, and sleep away her hunger and worry. Of course, sleep never cured hunger, but worry... perhaps.

She opened the glass gateway, and was puzzled to find that nothing was where it was supposed to be. The desk, the organ, the exquisite items of furniture, everything was scattered about as if preparations were being made to move to a new location. Surges of trepidation coursed through her veins as she searched frantically through her worried eyes for any sign of Erik, when a noise, as loud as noise could possibly be, startled her right out of her skin.

An enormous sigh of relief was pushed out through her lips as she heard the curse words that followed. Obviously Erik had thrown something to the ground, in frustration, at whatever he was doing.

"Erik?" Kristen called, listening to her voice repeat itself throughout the winding tunnels of the lake. She further entered this underground realm which she now called her home, looking for him. Eventually she came to approach her room. Upon entering, she heard that familiar loud clank once more, which she now recognized to be the sound of metal against stone.

"Erik?" She asked softly, she could barely see in this darkness. She heard him scurry to a standing position, hadn't he heard her before? His breath even betrayed frustration, obviously the result of spending too much time fidgeting with whatever it was he was trying to build, or disassemble. "Erik, what are you doing?" She asked, in a drowsy and tired voice. Her excursions throughout the theatre were remarkably trying to the poor girl, who'd spent much of the past few months either in bed, or not far from one.

"You sound exhausted Kristen... and I expected you to remain with the Giry's. They seemed more than willing to accommodate you."

"Why would I want to stay with them, when I can stay here with you?" she asked, but obviously the real reason behind her lack of interest in remaining above ground was the return of Christine and Raoul... but she would not tell him that. "Besides, they had visitors, palpably the same visitors which claimed the dinner of several staff members tonight."

"Who were the visitors?" Erik requested.

Kristen knew it would be unwise to pause now. Without thinking too long, she said the first thing that her wearied mind came to, "I don't know, I've never seen them before." Well, she couldn't be accused of lying, that was for sure. "What are you trying to do in here?" she besought.

Erik was completely silent. She shrugged in lack of interest, she would not beg for answers, despite her longing to know them. She removed her clothes, completely indifferent to the fact that she was naked before him. Soon after, she retrieved the same gown which she had placed delicately over the head board of the bed many hours earlier, and let it slide from her head to cover the rest of her figure. Without uttering another word, she filled the empty bed with her tired mass, though, she did not allow herself sleep just yet.

"Am I inaudible?" she asked,

"I'm sorry, Kristen." He said, moving to her bedside. She looked up at him as he loomed over her, clad in continuous black. "It is for you, all of it." he said.

"What is for me?" She asked with mock innocence. She didn't know what was getting into her, but she somehow felt herself growing angry at the thought that Erik had once loved the beautiful Christine... no, not angry, jealous. She was normally not a very jealous woman, but who could blame her here?

He frowned, "Is something wrong?" he asked. Still he didn't answer her question, and she was growing more frustrated with each proceeding moment that he did not. She could take it no longer, she removed herself from the bed and made her exit through the threshold of curtains.

Erik frowned, she was on the brink of insanity... or perhaps the rumour of women being a little nuts during certain parts of the month was not myth. She walked up to the mirror passage, and just as he was about to greatly dread the prediction of seeing her open the door and leave, she stopped before the mirror. He watched as she examined her face, touching over every scar which violated her brow.

_No wonder he doesn't want me_, she thought to herself. Perhaps she knew a little more of what Meg had been feeling earlier than Meg believed. Erik came up from behind her,

"Kristen, I want you to tell me what is bothering you, right now."

"Tell me what you are doing in here first. Why is everything moved around as if you are planning to leave, huh?"

He closed his eyes. His thoughts concerning her impossible personality had not strayed far from the truth, and the whole time that she graced his life she proved his observations correct.

"I heard everything you said in the auditorium, Kristen." He said.

She froze. Everything? Would that include her conversation with Christine? Did he know that the terrible woman was back? He was planning to leave! She concluded. He was leaving because she was back and he did not want the pain of having to see her with Raoul. She knew she was jumping to extreme resolutions, but this could not be helped. Tears came instantly to her gorgeous dark eyes as she looked up at him, "Are you leaving?" she asked in a pitiful whisper.

"Leaving?" He replied with a degree of laughter. The state of the lair certainly looked that way, but by no means was that even a possibility. He couldn't understand where she was getting this totally ridiculous notion anyway. "Where would you get that idea?"

"Well look at the place, you've completely torn it apart! and... what do you mean by you _heard me_?" she asked.

He turned her to face him, and with both hands on her shoulders, he endeavoured to answer her questions.

"I truly hope that what you said to Madame Giry was true."

She couldn't take it any more. Now_he_ was beating around the bush and she was finding it unbearable. "What? that I LOVE YOU?" She lashed out. She angrily shoved him away from her and walked back towards her bedroom. This was becoming an endless pursuance, and it was hurting her more and more each time she had to think about it.

"What has got into you" he basically hissed at her, blocking her entrance, and staring into her eyes with an enraged, confused gaze. "You act like you no longer possess a right mind."

"So it is with knowing how I feel that you pack up and leave? I love you Erik, I..." she covered her scars, "It's not a wonder you have been so distant from me, my appearance could never exceed that of Christine's beauty." Instantaneously she felt herself being pushed against the walls of the stone domain, though she expected to be slammed against it's unfriendly surface, not treated with his high level of care.

"I don't want you to even think about her" he hissed, "She's gone,"

"Not from your heart, she's not" She countered, "From what Meg says,_Christine_ is the most beautiful woman alive, no doubt after seeing her your chances of being attracted to another are altogether ruined."

He sighed, "What is making you think these things?" He growled, but in his eyes she could see the concern... he was so complex it was confounding. She wanted to wipe away the tears which flowed stubbornly down her cheeks, but his hands, which held her arms, prevented her from doing so.

She found she couldn't speak. She worried she wouldn't be able to. Looking up into his eyes, she could almost see her empty future, within their emerald flame. Just when she thought she'd found forever, one woman was returning to take that all away from her. Shock waves of fear streamed through her, maybe those three simple words would have been more reassuring to her than his metaphor of fondness.

He waited for her explanation, with similar tones of worry burdening his heart.

Before she said another word, she reached up and removed his mask. At once he grabbed it from her,

"Why must you do that?" he angrily interrogated.

"Because I hate when you wear it." She blurted out, "I'm not seeing_you_ when you wear it, all I am seeing is your hatred towards yourself. I love you... I love you, and I want us to part never," The poor girl was soon racked with sobs, "More and more I want to know that you feel the same way for me, but you don't say it, and you don't show it, and now you're moving things around like you're going to leave forever, and I don't know what to do Erik, I'm so afraid... you mock my dreams like they are_so_ bloody hilarious, what does that mean? Shall we never marry? Shall I never bear your children?" She completely broke down. Her words near the end had gradually increased to desperate cries. Everything she had wanted to say, was said. All that was left for her was the inevitable. He would tell her that it was never meant to be.

Her head gently tilted back to rest lightly against the wall. Her dark eyes were closed, and she tried. Oh how she tried to hold in her crying, but this was a feeling which controlled her emotions, destroyed her self control, and completely tore her to pieces inside.

Erik nearly cried himself, watching her like this. These fears which she exposed were the very picture of what he'd spent his whole life feeling, and this was certainly not the over- reactions of a lovesick little girl. Any woman who pleads to her companion this way is far beyond lovesick. Somehow, he knew, this had something to do with the enhancing marks upon her flesh, marks which by no means took from her outstanding beauty.

"Have I not made it clear that I love _you_?" he told her, his voice nothing more than a whisper, his hand leaving her arms to softly caress her cheek.

She strove to hold back her sobs, making them come out only as far as they could before she stopped them, causing a jolting her chest region, enough to tell him that she was still crying, inside.

"Is it her memory, which contaminates our love?" she asked, her crying eyes not parting with his.

"Kristen, you know the reason for our... lack of passion."

"I do, and I don't understand it. You claim to have fears about never having children, and yet you deny me? What is the real reason behind your, _lack of passion_?" She asked coldly.

"That_is_ the reason behind our lack of passion. Is it what you want? to be poisoned with the seed of a monster?" He demanded from her, nearly shaking her now by the shoulders.

"Poisoned by the seed of a monster? Erik!... why do you do this to me? You are not a monster! Your self hatred hurts me more than it hurts you!"

"You don't know what you're asking,"

"I do for heaven's sake! and you give me every reason to believe that I am simply not enough to satisfy you."

All was silent from there on. Tears were flowing ceaselessly from her bloodshot eyes, she was already exhausted from the day's trials, and now she had this to add to her lassitude. "I wish for your child Erik," She confided, "More and more I've desired to be a mother, and your wife. Will you ever see me as your wife?... Erik?" She asked.

Had he not been planning to improve their living quarters, and had the organ not been buried under a pile of ominous things, he would have probably took refuge from this situation in his music. His music which was always there before to calm his sadness or rage, was out of reach this moment. "My wife" he said, his hand roaming from her shoulder to her neck, gently fondling her delicate skin.

She was gently pushed backwards into the darkness of the bedroom, all her anger quickly drowned by her weary state. His lips came down to meet hers, in a soft and loving kiss. "You know that I love you Kristen," he whispered to her.

The tears which formerly marred her fair skin were gone from her now, though the evidence of their presence was still quite obvious.

"I love you," he whispered once more, as if he worried she had not heard him. She stared up into his beauteous eyes, she could fall for miles in their deepness. She was completely consumed when his lips met hers once more, only now their kiss was far deeper, with far greater passion than the first. She was lifted from the floor, and carried to the bed, it's softness welcoming her as he laid her feminine mass to rest upon it's heavenly comfort. Not five seconds later, she could feel his presence with her in the beautiful swan bed.

He could not understand what it was that made her so upset, and to see her cry like that was almost unendurable. It was true, he did wish to be a father, but never in his wildest dreams could he believe that there was a woman out there who would willingly bear him a child. He did love her, God how he loved her, he would not allow her to feel the same emptiness which had dwelt within his heart for so long. If she wanted to be a mother, he would grant her that, for he in all truth, wanted the same thing for her.

She only wore that gown, loose was it's fabric. It was hardly a barrier to be conquered. She could feel his skin warming her, and she knew that this pursuit of hers had been pushed to it's limit, and ultimately she had come out the victor.

"You know about the pain?" He asked her, and she softly nodded. Without a doubt she was a virgin, but it was unavoidable that someday it would be taken from her. She was nervous, as anyone would be, but her love for him was stronger than that.

She could feel him carefully pressing his muscular form to hers, his lips taking her's in a series of fervent kisses. When had he discarded his clothing? So caught up in the moment she was, that she did not even realize. Her arms locked around his neck as she returned this affection, anticipating the moments to come, and wondering just how unpleasant this first time would be.

His hand moved to the skirts of her gown, slowly lifting it above her legs... above her knees, stopping just before she had the chance to think that this would be over with quickly. Her eyes could not have left his now for the life of her, she watched him impatiently. What was he doing? Something within her was hating him for stalling, her blood was boiling, racing with the anticipation, the knowledge that this moment was finally here. All of her adolescent curiosities were about to be extinguished, all of her questions answered, all her momentary desires fulfilled.

His kisses were almost too seductive, the way he rested between her parted legs was almost unbearable. A strange heat was generated from within her, he still refused to proceed? "Erik," She whispered softly between kisses, she could feel his hand exploring the regions of her torso, her thighs, torturing her with his touch, which glided over her as if the sight of her bare skin was the single most appealing thing he'd ever seen. His desire for her was physically evident, she could feel him against her. What he had just caused within her was almost spectacular in itself, and he had only touched her.

"Kristen," his breath warmed her flesh as he whispered, the very sensation beckoning her breath to increase. His touch continued it's torment, the very feeling sent her body into different motions, reacting to the way she seemed to beg for his entry. Just when she thought she could take it no longer, the gown which she wore was removed from her, and soon after, she felt him gently thrust into her, and penetrate the barrier which formerly labelled her a virgin.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, muffling the cry she so desperately craved to emit, but as soon as the pain was there, it was gone, ending mere seconds after it's unpleasant arrival. All that was left, was him, and the fullness he seemed to fulfil her with. She held her hands to his broad shoulders, and back, tracing his masculine form as he halfway withdrew from her and thrust into her a second time, bringing forth from her a silent gasp. The heat she produced grew stronger as he continued to move within her, her breath increasing and her mind losing all thought. These moments of passion were not even close to the stuff of petty dreams or fantasies. No fake illusion could have possibly compared to this sort of genuineness, this sort of love.

She could feel his breath warming her skin as it in turn increased, both of them savouring the feelings they created within each other. Her hips soon raised forward towards him. As the pace of their passion was increased, outcries of fire escaped through her lips, cries which could not be held in. She had not intended to make so much sound, but what he made her feel was taking ultimate control. This unimaginable act of love persisted for some time. She completely yielded to his movements, and was thoroughly consumed by his presence within her. Their rapidity was built to an extreme level, both of them reaching climax in almost perfect unison, gasping, crying out, expressing passion which could not be held back.

For some time afterwards, he remained above her, using the bedding around her to support his weight. Her hair was matted to her forehead, beads of sweat lingered on her soft, beautiful skin. The very sight of her beneath him was almost ravishing.

When she felt him move to lay beside her, she quickly forced herself into his arms. She could have cried. Nothing she had ever felt, could even compare to what he could make her feel. She would never be able to express to him in words the love she felt for him, and if she could figure out a way to show him, she would.

He was just as unbelieving as she was, about what they'd just done together. He did not deserve her, he knew he would be telling himself this every day for the rest of his life with her, but he would never let her go willingly.


	21. Questions and Secrets

**A/N: Awww.. I'm so sad, what's happened to all my reviewers? Is no one reading my story any more? ..cries...cries... I'll keep writing it, but I miss your feedback :(, I know i've been a bad author... but my teachers give me so much homework, ...cries... Please read and PLEAAAAAASE Review, I'm begging you guys, heh...heh...sniff.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera or it's characters, but Damn it I love the Phantom!**

Meg was nearly shaking when she made her way to Christine's temporary room. Her mother had warned her to go straight to bed, but how could she listen to her at a time like this? What if Erik was watching her right now? What if Erik was watching her walking to Christine's door? The very speculation of being watched by the legendary Phantom sent ice water up her spine. She figured though, only good could come of telling Christine that Erik lived, because perhaps Christine would become so frightened that she would leave... would that not be a good thing for Kristen?

She didn't have time to think of the matter any further, for almost instantly the door was opened for her, and Meg was instantly confronted by Christine, who was in her beautiful white night dress, her hair braided, and allowed to fall gently against her back.

"Meg!" Christine whispered, closing the door behind her as she stepped out from her bedroom. "Meg, what are you doing here?" She asked.

Meg barely heard her question, for her mind was already flooded with inquiries of her own. "Where were you going?" She asked, with a certain amount of interest.

"Um..." Christine could not find the proper words to tell Meg that she was going out to wander around the theatre, to remember as much as she could of her previous life as a child there, and about the Phantom.

"Christine, maybe you should come with me. Come to my room Christine! It will be like old times!" Meg tried to sound excited, but the words which were hanging off the edge of her tongue concerning the Phantom simply killed her joy.

Christine, though seeing Meg's melancholy, agreed to this notion... Wasn't she on a mission to recapture old times any way? "All right Meg" She said, gently laughing in her softest voice, "Let's go."

Meg took Christine by the hand in a friendly gesture, and guided her down the hallway to her bedroom in the dormitories. When the two entered the young ballerina's quarters, the door was closed, and some white, half melted candles were lit. Christine smiled. Meg's room had never changed, it still consisted of those wild flowers in that lovely china vase, which she always picked from the outdoors on a weekly bases. Everything was where Christine remembered it, her vanity, her wardrobe, with all her dresses, costumes and ballet slippers, her lovely antique bed which must have been older than the two of them put together. Meg had been very very glad that her room was not destroyed in the fire. Although she sometimes shared space with her mother, Meg had her own room away from Antoinette's, her mother thought it best to allow her SOME freedom.

"Meg, you look worried, what is going on? You have not been yourself all night, not even at dinner. Please tell me what is ailing you" Christine implored. Meg sighed, this would not be easy.

"Christine, a lot has happened since you left with Raoul." She noticed the slight strain on Christine's delicate features as she spoke, knowing that this innocent little sentence had already brought back some painful memories. Christine was silent.

"You remember Kristen, right? The woman you met earlier."

Christine nodded, "The one with the scars, right?" she asked. Meg frowned,

"Her name is Kristen! and she is one of the nicest ladies I know. Even when she was blind she possessed such an amazing personality."

Christine put a hand to her brow and sat on the chair at Meg's vanity. Instantly the young ballerina was at Christine's side,

"Are you going to be ok?" She asked, when she saw Christine's obvious distress.

"It's so hard for me to be back here, as much as I wanted to help you... this place is so full of sadness."

"I know Christine, I remember what you went through. I admit that I have never been through something so frightening, but... oh God Christine, I don't know how to tell you this" she explained.

"What were you saying about... Kristen?" she asked. Meg frowned again. Why did Christine seem to sound annoyed at the sound of Kristen's name? Her best guess, was that seeing another person with marred flesh could only bring back memories of the Phantom... even so, she couldn't believe that Christine, one of the nicest women she knew also, would describe a person as, _the one with the scars _"It is a miracle she came." Meg stated gently. Christine became confused,

"A miracle?" She asked, tears rimmed the edge of her lids, "Is she a singer? a dancer? a musician? a composer?"

Meg shook her head, "She is none of those." She replied.

"Then I'm puzzled, tell me why Kristen is a miracle." Meg could see that Christine was in some sort of horrible emotional state. Wherever she was going... Meg thought, it probably had something to do with Erik.

"Because she's become very special to someone who lives here."

Christine lowered her head, "I don't understand what you are trying to tell me" She said honestly. "All I know is that a blind girl can see again and someone is fond of her."

"Christine, you must promise me that you will not yell or scream when I say these words to you, because I am not supposed to be telling you this."

Christine's eyes widened, and Meg could tell that she pretty much knew the words which were about to be said.

"Erik didn't die, Christine. I know it said that he did, in the news paper, but they were wrong." And then, you could have heard a pin drop. Christine gave Meg a stare which could have turned her to ice, as if she just found out that she had three minutes left to live.

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but words did not come out. Meg realized that she had just terrified the poor woman. A shaking hand was brought to her lips, as she stared at Meg with wide, tearing eyes.

"Please don't be afraid Christine" Meg said with rising worry, "He won't try to hurt you again."

Christine rose from the lovely wooden chair, and was about to run for the door when Meg blocked her exit, "Christine, you can't do this!" she said, "You cannot go ballistic right now."

"He's here? he's right here right now? Then he will know that I have returned!... and I've left Raoul all alone! MEG! HE WILL KILL HIM!" She screamed in frightened fury, and pushed past Meg to run down the darkened hallway. Meg sighed as she watched this petrified young lady charge her way through the obscurities'. The only thing she could think to do was follow her, because right now, she was the only one who could stop tragedy.

No doubt Christine would tell Raoul what Meg just told her, and then they would have a problem! Raoul had probably fantasized about getting his hands on the Phantom ever since they left Paris, and now that he was alive, she realized, Raoul would probably want revenge.

At this thought, Meg raced after the running woman and when she was close enough, she seized Christine's arm, and pulled her back, nearly slamming her against the wall. Meg was no doubt way stronger than Christine.

"You listen to me!" Meg hissed in whisper, "Don't you dare do something stupid like tell Raoul what I've just told you. Do you understand? Erik is a different man now! He and Kristen are in love, do you really want to ruin that"  
Christine broke down crying, right there in the hallway. She slid down the wall which she was slammed against and buried her face in her hands.

"You cannot tell anyone." Meg repeated, and just as she was about to pull Christine's crying form from the floor, a door was opened, and Meg's state of worry was boosted another fifty percent.

"Cannot tell anyone what?" It was Raoul, standing in the doorway fully clothed, and a look of pure anger and concern on his face towards young Meg.

...(scene shift)...

There was no way to tell if it was morning, no way to tell if she had slept for an hour, or for many hours. When Kristen awoke, beside Erik, time didn't even matter. She wanted to wake him up, she wanted to wake him up and hold him so tightly. She wanted to replay the previous night over and over until all her strength was gone. She realized, as she traced the tarnished flesh of his right cheek, that he was deep in sleep, perhaps even dreaming. She now loomed over _him_, the very sight of his whole face brought forth a smile from her, and tears nearly formed in her eyes.

He awoke to find her staring down at him, both of them unclothed, lying together. Her palm was warm against his face, and he moved his hand to gently hold her wrist. As soon as she realized his stirs, she allowed herself to fully rest herself on top of him. She didn't feel the slightest bit guilty, even though she knew she pretty much intended to wake him with her touch.

He embraced her warmly, her cheek resting against his rugged features, she kissed the side of his face. The morning was theirs, and the constant darkness, and dimming candles provided all the light they would ever need. She could have stayed this way forever, and he was thinking the exact same thing. In darkness, or in light, as long as it was this way, never would there ever be a need to change things.

"Good morning Erik," Kristen said, though her voice came out slightly groggier than she expected it to be. How well_had_ she slept? She felt so full of energy, but so tired at the same time. She was well aware of the cold temperature of their subterranean home, but under the covers, and in his arms, she could barely feel cold at all.

"I love you Kristen," He replied. She was about to laugh, but the sound would not move passed her lips. He was so formal, so very perfect, a simple good morning would have been enough, but she could not argue with herself that she also welcomed those words.

She slightly arose to face him, and she planted a very long, gentle kiss upon his lips, "I love you too," she said, her full weight still leaning against him. "I don't care if I never see the sunshine again,"

"I need you Kristen," He said to her. She felt herself pleasantly imprisoned within his hold.

"You have me, Erik, you have me forever, I'll never leave you." She whispered, and kissed him again. The two of them fell into this kiss completely, a kiss which was meant to last for three or four seconds, turned out to last entire minutes, deepening in passion. Her heart was racing, even though they'd gone so much further, just this simple act was enough to send her mind through the clouds.

Breathing annoyed her now, every so often breaking their passion. She cursed the man who said "All good things must come to an end," as their fervour concluded, and he moved from her, to get out of bed. She watched him stand, completely without clothes on, and couldn't withdraw her eyes. He was beautiful, every part of him made her want to pull him back into bed with her, but obviously he had other ideas. He began to dress himself,

"I'm sorry that I couldn't find the words to tell you what I was up to last night." he said.

She frowned. She had forgotten the whole ordeal until he brought it up. "What were you trying to do?" she asked.

He walked to her side of the bed, wearing only his black pants and white blouse, and he sat. "Kristen, my love, you cannot live here while this place is as it is." he said.

She sat up, the white sheet cloaking her nude form, though she wondered why she even hid herself at all, since he'd seen her naked, what... three or four times now? "What do you mean _as it is_? Erik I love this place _as it is_." She said, "Everything you have here is so beautiful, and it makes me think of you. Why do you want to change it?"

"I know that you like it, but I don't. There are too many things here which remind me of a past I so long to forget entirely. I have you now, I don't need to remember all my years of solitude."

Kristen nodded, "I guess I understand." She said, "But really, you aren't going to make our home look like a normal Parisian residence, are you?" She asked.

"No" he replied with a chuckle, "But no child of mine will live in a dirty cellar like this."

He, in all the time he knew her, had never seen her eyes light up so brilliantly. She pulled him to her and hugged him so tightly, "All right! change it, do whatever you want with it!" she vented so happily. "I love you" She added. Would a day pass that she would not say it to him?

He laughed, as she basically squeezed the life out of him, "I know, and I love you too Kristen... I...can't breath... quite well."

She giggled lightly, "Sorry" She said, with humorous innocence. He smiled and kissed her softly, before rising from the bed, and fixing his now slightly wrinkled blouse. She could have torn holes in his shirt and he wouldn't have cared.

She pushed the covers back and stood out of bed, walking to the wardrobe and opening it. Not caring what it was she was going to ware, she grabbed the first thing that her hand came to, which was a lovely black dress, but by no means was it the type of dress one would wear to a funeral. After arranging her undergarments, she slipped the gown over her head and let it fall to her ankles. Only when she turned around to leave the room did she realize that Erik had been watching her the whole time, and she slightly blushed,

"Am I really that entertaining?" She asked, her voice full of jest.

"You're really that gorgeous," he said to her as she walked passed him. She took it now into her liberty to light a few more candles. She figured that if he was going to be doing work, he would need the light. Once the place was properly illuminated, she turned to face him.

"I suppose you will want me out of your way while you... change everything." She couldn't stop smiling, "I'll go and see how Meg is doing."

"You don't have to..."

"Surprise me when I return." She said. She stopped near him on her way to the mirror passage, and kissed him deeply, then smiled darkly, and disappeared through that mirror.

The tunnels of the Populaire were more welcoming to her each time she moved through them. All the while she could not stop thinking about last night, and on occasion she would put a hand to her stomach. A child? When he spoke to her of children, she nearly melted. Was she pregnant now? or would it take more? Well... she greeted both answers quite fondly.

Climbing the stairs to the surface wasn't as hard as it had been before, and no longer was she injured in the least bit. How would she hide from Meg everything she was feeling? She would have to try, but she didn't imagine that a moment would go by that she wouldn't smile.

As she made her way behind the walls of the surface level, she heard the sound of some rather uneasy voices, and hastily made her way to them.

"Meg, I know you're hiding something from me! You have poor Christine in tears! and she won't say a word. Now what did you tell her!"

"Stop it, you're hurting me!" When Kristen heard these words come from young Meg, she burst through the nearest entry way, and stormed down the hall.

"LET GO OF HER!" Kristen yelled with mad fury, as she saw Raoul shaking the poor ballerina. She grabbed him by the arm and yanked him from her, and then she slapped him clean across the face, "How dare you touch a lady in such a way!"

Raoul frowned, "She's upset my wife!"

Kristen rolled her eyes, "For pity's sake, everything upsets your wife! But I swear on all that's good, if you dare touch her the way I saw you touch her again, I'll have your head nailed to the main wall!" she threatened coldly.

He sighed, "I apologize, but this... brat here, is hiding something important, and it concerns Christine."

"Leave." Kristen demanded fiercely. When Raoul's words brought tears to poor Meg's eyes, Kristen could tolerate his presence no longer.

"What?"

"LEAVE!" She hollered, her voice echoing down the corridor. He could do nothing... but simply... leave.

"Did he hurt you Meg?" Kristen asked softly. The young girl began to cry, and She brought her dear friendly closely in a warm embrace, "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner" she said.

"It isn't your fault Kristen, It's mine." Meg confessed, "But she had to know."

Kristen frowned, "Had to know what?"

"That Erik is alive."

"You mean you told Christine that the Phantom is still... oh my God Meg, how could you do this to me?" She asked quietly.

"I didn't mean it that way, it was not meant to hurt you, it was meant to warn her. She was quite right in storming out of the room to make sure Raoul wasn't dead yet! If Erik knows that they're back, he'll kill Raoul and he'll kidnap Christine!"

Kristen closed her eyes. The girl knew nothing of what was_really_ going on below the surface. "Meg, I don't think Christine has to worry about being kidnapped. And personally I don't think I would hold it against Erik if he did kill Raoul, after what I just saw him doing to you."

"Does he know she's back?" Meg asked quietly.

"No, how could he? he hasn't been to the surface since yesterday, and quite obviously he left for the underground before Christine arrived. He hasn't been up here since."

"Do you keep such close watch on him?" Meg asked.

"Well, no... but I was with him all night. There's no way Raoul could have been in any danger. And he's down there right now, fixing our home."

"Your... home? Kristen, you're going to continue to live with him?"

"Of course I am Meg!" Kristen said smiling, "I love him."

"Does he love you?"

Kristen blushed, and nodded, "I may be eating for two soon." She said. Meg instantaneously grew horrified. She fell against the wall, and she may very well have fainted if the wall had not been there.

"You mean..."

Kristen nodded, "I may be with child at this very moment" she whispered, "But tell no one of this, until it's physically evident. Not even your mother, understand?"

Meg nodded, "Everything around here is being kept secret any way, what's the difference in keeping one more?"

Kristen hugged her friend, "I've never been so happy," she said, "Everything is so perfect."

Meg sighed, "Yes... perfect" though her words could have been more sincere.


	22. Revealed

**A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, and I'll thank L2C, and Apolloslyre..(I just know I spelled that wrong) For bearing with me through these nasty non-publishing days... You guys are awesome, it's a miracle I was even able to publish this today... amazingly, I was able to swim through that pile of homework sitting on my desk. :p. I hope you enjoy this chapter... though I just know you're all going to kill me by the time you reach the ending paragraph... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the Phantom of the Opera, do you think I'd be sitting here at my pathetic little Window's 95? No way man! I'd be writing from a theatre sized screen withover sizedkeys or... something (God I'm pathetic!)**

"I don't understand it. You come back here, quite content with helping the Giry's, and the Populaire, and now you're crying as if things have never changed. Christine, you have to let me be here for you" Raoul pleaded with his wife, as she sat on the edge of their bed, shielding her anguished face with her hands, and quietly sobbing.

She said nothing, and her silence only stirred within him a growing panic. "If you will not explain your worry, then I shall seek it out myself!" With that, he stood and began to move toward the door, when Christine stormed to her feet.

"No Roaul! You mustn't go out there!" She warned. Raoul frowned and rotated to face her.

"Oh? And why not?"

What was she going to say? What could she say? There was no truthful explanation that would spare any kind of hardship.

"You know," Raoul began, "That friend of yours is quite rude."

"Meg?" Christine asked.

"No, the other one... what's her name?"

"Kristen... Kristen Verlaine." She answered.

"How did she get those ghastly marks on her face?" He asked.

She shook her head, "There was a fire... or something. I don't know, Raoul, but please, promise me you will not go looking for anything. This place is still so full of dangers, even though Erik... is dead. I'm sure they have not disassembled all of his tortures, all of his traps and lours, please promise me you will stay with me, don't leave me alone, please."

Raoul was at her side immediately, when he realized the poor frightened woman was shaking somewhat. She certainly looked as if she were still trapped within that nightmare which had plagued them only months before,

"I knew this would be a bad idea, to come back here." He said, "Perhaps we should leave. Yes! that is what we are going to do. Get you're bags Christine, we're going back to the estate."

"NO!" Christine thundered, and caught Raoul completely off guard with her sharp volume. "We must stay... for Meg and Madame Giry's sake!"

Raoul sighed, "You are torturing yourself by staying here. Can you not see how bad this place is for you?"

"I don't care!" Christine stated firmly, "I won't let the Populaire fall to ruin! We must stay!"

He sighed once more, "Fine, Christine, my love, but you will tell me what Meg told you. When the sun rises, you will tell me."

...(Scene shift)...

"Oh excellent!" M. Armande stated, staring down at the most recent letter received from a construction company.

"What is it?" Firmin requested, walking into the messy manager's office. Business papers were scattered endlessly around the room, one could barely see the floor!

"They're going to start rebuilding within the week! They're on their way from the south, and they'll be here by Thursday."

"Well, that_is_ good news" Firmin returned, looking somewhat drowsy.

"Firmin, are you quite all right?" Armande asked.

"Oh, yes, yes, fine." He said, then fell cold to the floor as if dead. Armande quickly scurried over and knelt down beside this very passed out manager.

"FIRMIN!" Armande yelled, and strongly shook his business partner, "You drunken oaf!"

"What is going on in here?" Came a strong male voice at the door. Armande quickly shot up to his feet, and faced the young man, who was Raoul, with a very startled expression.

"I'm sorry, just some... temporary issues, is there something I can help you with?" Armande asked. Raoul didn't ask for permission to enter the office, he simply barged in as if he were welcome. Armande was somewhat intimidated... this man was rich, and his strength of power, being a count and all... well, that wasn't so appealing either to this poor old manager.

"How did that happen?" Raoul demanded. Armande frowned, did he think it was_his_ fault?

"He came in, he appeared to be perfectly fine, and then he passed out, dead as a door knob!"

"DEAD!" Raoul shouted.

"No no sir, he is not dead! he is simply... passed out."

Raoul walked further into the office, passed Armande, and began to gaze around at things, as if he were a detective, carefully hunting for clues. He knew something strange was going on in the Opera house... and somehow, he had the strongest feeling it had something to do with _Monsieur le Fantome_.

"I say... what do you think you are doing? These things are none of your business! Get out!"

"And what are these?" Raoul asked, picking up several rolls of paper, and opening them. Upon seeing the contents of the paper, his expression grew alarmed. "Where did you get these blueprints M. Armande? Who created these?"

"That is none of your business either! Now give me those before I notify the police of this intrusive behaviour!"

"What are you hiding from me?" Raoul demanded harshly. "What? He still lives, doesn't he! The Phantom of the Opera still lives in this very theatre! DOESN'T HE! Now it all makes sense!" He threw the papers down onto the floor and stormed out of the office. That was why Christine was crying! That was why Armande had choked on his wine at the mention of the Phantom. The murderer was still alive! Oh he'd waited to hear news like this! and now he could feel his blood sweltering.

...(Scene Shift)...

Kristen chuckled somewhat, "Meg, what time is it?" she asked curiously. She hadn't thought about the time since... well, long before her rather romantic escapades.

"I think it's a little past three in the morning. I haven't been up this late in such a long while. Why?" she asked

"I'm starving... Meg, please tell me you have something here to eat."

"Doesn't he feed you?" She asked.

"Well, there isn't exactly food to be_had_ around here. I don't know where we're going to get our hands on provisions... and I can't remember the last time I saw him eat. I swear, it's like the man isn't fuelled by food at all!"

"That's impossible" Meg said, "Come, We'll go to my mother's room, she has food there. She's kept an effort to keep_some_ resources available for us." Kristen smiled thankfully. After hours on end without food, she thought she would die, but she was so glad that her nutritional drought was coming to it's finale.

"Shhhh, we don't want to wake her, she may be asleep. It is, after all, early" Meg whispered very quietly, as she tip toed through her mother's quarters. Kristen followed, as silently as a ghost. Meg even turned around a few times to see if she was still there. To her amazement, she was.

"We've got bread, there's never a shortage of bread, although, I'm sure it's gone a bit stale since..."

"It will be fine" Kristen said, and gratefully took the handful which Meg so generously handed over. In no time at all, it was vanished.

"You must be very hungry." Meg guessed, handing her a glass of water, "You should really make an effort to eat more than once every few days, especially since there may be a child on the way."

They both laughed silently at this notion, but their merriment didn't last very long.

"A child?" Meg jumped and whirled around to find her mother standing in the darkened kitchen doorway. "And just who will be having the child?" She asked, as if she thought it were her own daughter in the shoes of the supposed _pregnant_ woman. Kristen took one very large gulp of water, and gently wiped her mouth,

"Madame Giry!" She said, and slightly coughed.

"Madame Giry! indeed." The elderly woman repeated, "Meg, I think you should run along to bed now, it's quite late for a ballerina to be up and about."

"Yes Maman," Meg hung her head low as she left the two.

"Kristen, do you care to tell me why you are here so early in the morning, and why you are putting a dent in our ration of food?"

"Oh, Madame Giry, I am so dreadfully sorry, I'm just so, so hungry, and Meg made it sound as if you had plenty to spare..."

"Don't worry child" Antoinette said calmly, "By all means, eat until you are full, I should have known that allowing you to live with the Phantom would dwindle you somewhat."

Kristen frowned, "I appreciate your concern, Madame, but you do not need to insult me."

The ballet instructor shook her head, "Kristen, I am not insulting you." She said, "I am merely in disbelief concerning this whole situation." Then, she walked right up to Kristen, and looked her dead in the eye, "My friend, what was Meg whispering about, when she mentioned the word _child_" she inquired, her voice a low and suspicious one. Kristen guzzled down the rest of her water, and thought deeply on the subject. Meg always had a way of letting people know things, when they were not meant to be known. And now look! this woman was on the verge of knowing a secret, that might not even need to be kept yet.

"She was only joking Madame, I assure you, everything is fine."

Kristen was worried that Madame Giry wouldn't buy her lies, but was extremely relieved when she received a sigh, and a pat on the shoulder, "Good heavens child, you nearly frightened me half to death."

"Why would that frighten you?"

"Erik, a father? Kristen, I don't think you know him well enough to realize just what kind of a father he would be."

She frowned, "No, I don't,_enlighten_ me" She said, on a certain level she was offended by this woman's criticism. Erik would be a perfect father... Kristen was sure of it.

"Those are things I myself cannot tell you. My dear, you will have to find them out on your own."

"Madame Giry, please! What are you hiding from me" Kristen seemed to beg. It hadn't occurred to her until now that perhaps she didn't know Erik as well as she thought she had. Up until now she had only known that he was her rescuer, and that she loved him dearly... Oh, and that he once kidnapped Christine Daae, and... other than that she was clueless. "Never mind Madame," She said stubbornly, "I don't know why you look down at Erik, nor do I wish to know. He's perfect..." With that she nodded, "Thank you for the food, and tell Meg thank you, as well. I'll be going to bed now." She said, but truthfully, how would she sleep? First of all, she'd already slept a good... God only knows how many hours, and secondly, she had a few doors to unlock. "Goodnight Madame." She said, and made her exit.

Madame Giry shook her head, "Good heavens child, what have you got yourself into?"

All the way back down into the underground domain, Kristen could not get her mind off Madame Giry's words. What kind of a father would he make? If he was half as good to his child as he was to her, then he would be an excellent father. She could see him now, teaching their son or daughter to play the organ... Kristen would have a million bed time stories written out. GOD DAMN IT! She mentally yelled to herself. Three or four months had already passed, and she hadn't authored a single word! She stopped in the middle of the dark, damp tunnel, and leaned against the filthy wall. More and more she was beginning to love the foul confines of these hidden hallways, with their gothic, creepy nature. If only she could get her hands on a diary, or a journal... She'd have it full within days, spending hours on end just filling it's pages with the contents of the past few months, and her newly found source of love.

She then watched a few rats run by, as if chasing each other happily in a game of tag. They squeaked in the distance, and were gone. So strange, this place was just crawling with rodents and not one could be found above ground. Slowly she began to walk again, taking her time to see everything... every cob web, every crack in the stone wall. Home, she thought, and smiled rather darkly to herself.

She wondered what Erik would be up to, she had been gone no longer than an hour... he couldn't have done much within that time frame. Could he really change his whole realm? For a man who put so much care into everything he did, the odds of him changing the place entirety were quite low.

She threw open the mirror passage and walked into her home with pride, as if half influenced by alcohol. Things were in a bigger mess than they were before she left...

"ERIK?" She called. Her heart began to race as she perceived that wooden door, which had remained closed to her since her arrival there, was open.

"Erik?" She walked towards the door cautiously. She almost didn't want to go inside, she knew he would not have wanted her to be there. Just as she stood before it, he came out, and quickly closed the door behind him. She nearly sighed in frustration, but did not, at the sight of him... once again wearing that dreadful mask.

"Back so soon?" He asked, hoping to good God that she would forget her longing to view the contents of that room.

"Yes," she answered guardedly, but her eyes betrayed her, moving towards the door he stood blocking. "Why will you not show me what is in there?" She asked, walking forward until they were close enough to kiss, she gently pushed him against the door with her form, resting against his. "Is it really so horrible?"

"You don't want to see it," He told her quietly.

"Whatever it is... It really can't be good, can it? if you are so determined to obscure it from me."

"Some things are better left in the dark."

"Like us?" She asked, cloaking him with her embrace, she looked up at him, "I should burn that mask." She muttered sensually, lightly kissing him, keeping her face distanced just enough to prevent from touching that loathsome piece of plastic.

"And endure the sight of what lies beneath?" he whispered hauntingly at her.

"If you haven't noticed by now that I love to look at you, then you ARE one of the most brain dead men I've ever met!"

He snorted, "How many men _have_ you met?"

"Enough to know that not one of them even compares to you in my strange and twisted heart..."

"Yes, you would have to be twisted to look upon me with fond eyes."

She exhaled in frustration, "You're impossible!" she told him,

"And you are not?" he replied.

There was an uneasy silence as they both stared at each other. She longed to rip the mask away from him... but more than that, she longed to throw him out of her way and enter that mysterious room which he kept so secreted from her. He could feel her breath warming his skin as she gazed up at him, despite the mask... She was so close.

"Is it where you keep the bodies?" She asked, her voice betraying signs of amusement. She couldn't tell herself that it was unthinkable, but it was a rather hilarious belief, that he would go to the surface, murder some unfortunate people and drag their lifeless carcasses into the depths of hell, only to store them in a room, behind no more than a wooden door.

"Yes Kristen, it's where I keep the bodies!" he replied sarcastically, looking down at her with eyes of mock insanity, drawing from her a glorious laughter. She pressed herself against him,

"I thought you were going to surprise me" She said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I thought you'd be gone longer."

"Please show me what's in the room"

"No,"

She closed her eyes, his denial was becoming painful. "I wish you would not hide so many things from me."

"I only hide what I know will harm you." He told her. She glared up at him with a frown, growing in it's fury,

"Harm me? So whatever is behind that door will harm me? I find that hard to believe."

"No Kristen, I don't want you to know."

She looked away from him. "We can't have secrets like this, if we're going to be together this way."

"If you knew my past, you would change your mind about me." He told her, and began to caress her delicate features.

"You murdered, right? Murdered, and kidnapped, and did all sorts of nasty things..."

He closed his eyes, "It is so much more complicated than that."

"I think you are fascinating... everything about you fascinates me... Haven't we already been through this?" She reached around him, and lightly took the doorknob in her hands, "It's time Erik, everything we hide should be known to each other."

He was about to stop her, but realized that by the look in her eyes, she was dead serious, and perhaps she was right... It was time. She turned the knob, and swung the door open to reveal nothing more than a room, consumed by darkness. She could hear his breathing escalate in a sort of nervous air... what_was_ within the shadows of this room? The air was colder, much colder, and this is where he slept? She thought to herself as she entered the blurs of dimness. She saw him walk into the blackness, and she heard the sound of metal, probably a candle stick, clank against what sounded like wood... perhaps a desk.

"I just know I'm going to regret this" He told her, as he brought light into the very room he thought would forever remain in shade.

Her breath was caught in her throat. Her eyes were fixed wide, and she knew they would stay glued open until forced shut. Never, had she ever seen anything like it before.


	23. Extinguished Curiosity

**A/N: To my readers, especially my loyal ones with all their heartwarming reviews, I am so sorry that I was unable to get more chapters up this week... I've been swimming in this pool of ominous homework, you see, only tonight was I able to relieve myself of doing everything the teachers want me to :p**

**Just so you know, some of this might seem a bit wierd if you haven't read the book... like certain scenery descriptions, but if you haven't, that's ok, i'm sure you can all accept certain features as part of the story anyway:p, we all have active imaginations, I'm sure...and I'm talking way too much now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters... Mores the pity.**

Kristen didn't know what to think, as her mind and heart absorbed the very contents of that room. Beautiful, graceful, deathlike and scary all at once, and at the same time, dedicated. Everything she laid her eyes on seemed to have it's purpose there, although she did not know yet the motives behind their existence.

"Erik," She whispered, but he remained silent. Never could she have imagined seeing all of this behind that pathetic little door. Amongst the cobwebs and dust, hidden within the shadows, were the very items of heartbreak and passion. She had never seen so many books in her life, shelves full of literature, scientific study, and other sources she would be hard pressed to even know about. Her eyes were drawn instantly to the small piano obscured in the darkness of the far corner, just buried under books of music, and scattered sheets, yellow with age. The room bore a wooden floor, which she thought to be particularly odd, for the rest of the lair was stone. A Persian rug lay in the centre of this morbid domain. The far wall was shrouded in the blackness, the candle which Erik held did little to illuminate her surroundings.

She looked up to him, and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to know what was going through her head already, but still he found the courage to hand her the candle. She took this light with caution, and began to advance towards the haze of dark. What she saw now could have stopped her heart altogether. So the first part hadn't been so bad... but this? this was just... indescribable. Sitting atop the wooden mount, with two gothic candle holders at either side, was a hideous black coffin, it's lid open, as if ready for it's victim. This was perhaps the only item, save for the piano keys, which was not completely veiled by dust. It was evil, pure evil, and Kristen could hardly bare to look at it. Obviously he slept in this sorry state, she turned back to look at him, but his eyes were still shut. She knew that he truly feared her knowing these things about him, and obviously he did not want her in here for that very reason.

She continued past his ugly bed, and followed her invisible path of wonder, towards something which to her, seemed even stranger than the coffin itself. Pictures, of a young woman, whom Kristen recognized to be Christine Daee... or de Chagny... or whatever. Tons of pictures, drawings, a mannequin? Where in the hell did he get that and what in the blinking hell was it used for? She thought she would understand whatever he was hiding, but why did she feel the sudden urge to lunge or curse at him for having these things locked away? Obviously these items were the very things which once littered the main lair, which was why, she guessed, it had seemed so curiously empty before. Erik had tucked them away... conspicuously. She sighed, the woman was still in his heart, and she knew she would never be able to fully erase her from him.

She then proceeded to mentally name herself a bloody idiot, for there were many unlit candles around the room, and she carried but a single one. She looked over to him... and sighed. _What am I doing_? She asked herself. Truly... Why did she have to see these things? Why? Because she knew that if she had left well enough alone, she would be out there right now, continuing to ponder the contents of this quarter, and she would continue to do so forever. So now was the time, and she knew what she had to do, no matter how much it hurt him... she would have to find a way to heal his pains. She put the flaming wick to the other candles, and watched as they lit up the entire space, a space which had probably never seen this much light, ever in it's duration.

She gasped. The place was larger than she had at first predicted... and was that a metal tree? Mirrors loomed everywhere, ropes, ladders, chains. She was instantly drawn to the pair of rusted cuffs which hung so innocently from a dirty stake in the wall. She approached them, and then looked back to Erik, "Where did you manage to obtain all these things?" She asked. Slowly he walked to her, and she quite calmly waited until the gap between them was vanished.

"Kristen, I will not blame you if you never wish to return here again. I can almost see it in your eyes, that you are disgusted with the idea of this chamber." He spoke with the softest voice, the voice which seemed to sway her from her thoughts... but she knew it was a weapon, and perhaps he never intended it to be, she could not let his beauteous vocal ability set her off her course. What he was saying was very real, these things were distorted... but at the same time, they were both fair and passionate. She did not answer him right away, the thoughts which ran through her head, so many at once, were destroying her ability to convey.

She gently held the cuffs in her hands, they would not fit around her own wrists, let alone his... but maybe Chr... "Erik, who was it that befell this tragedy? Who did you imprison within these chains?" She asked quietly, trying strongly to remain collected, although she could not imagine him putting anyone in chains... in torture...

He let out a long slow sigh, was it disappointment or shame? or was it sadness? "Those were mine." He whispered. There was a long silence, as always between them in a moment of serious tension. She just looked up into his emerald green eyes, she knew he was about to shed tears, and she could feel her heart falling deeper within her chest. Even amongst his collection of evils and wrong doings, she was still incapable of watching him reduced to such a sorry state of dejection.

"Yours?" She asked in whisper, "But how... how could such dreadful bracelets accommodate such large wrists?"

His eyes closed once more. These were memories he did not wish to share. He didn't even wish to remember them himself. If he could destroy his mind, he would have done so long ago, but these demons would remain with him throughout the remnant of his life.

"You think I've lived here forever?" he asked, and she could just hear the suppressed ire in his slithering voice.

"I..." She began, but he did not give her a chance to conclude.

"This world is a cruel place, Kristen" His eyes met hers with quiet rage, whatever he was feeling, could only be displayed within his eyes. His stance, and demeanour, were the very image of tranquillity. "Could society accept a child with a face like this?" he pointed to his mask, and her brow instantly lifted in perturbation. The only words she could think were _Poor Erik_, as if she watched him from afar, rather than from where she stood. "My own mother wouldn't accept that I looked this way, and neither could my father." He slightly turned from her, and while staring at the wooden floor, he continued. "He eventually sold me to the gypsies, and their freak show. I was on display for many years before Madame Giry rescued me from that horrendous lifestyle. Have you ever eaten rotten food, Kristen?" he asked her, "Have you ever sat within a cage, like a dog, wearing these?" He grabbed the cuffs from her shaking hands and held them up so she could see them in clearer light. Quaking the metal binds within his palm, he resumed "While they cut holes in your skin? until the very insects of spoilage begin to rot through your flesh?"

She let out a single sob. With every word he spoke, his voice grew colder, harsher, and ghostly. He, in this way, was truly frightening. "Erik... it doesn't have to be this way, you're letting the past trouble you, even now... even now that it's all over and it will never return." Her voice betrayed her longing to cry. She gently took the bonds from his hand, and held them within her own, "Your shoulders are no longer the only ones which will endure these cruel reminiscences."

He shook his head, "Kristen, you don't know what you are saying. You're hopeful that you will save me from these thoughts and pasts, but never could anyone relieve me from such burdens."

She let the rusting cuffs fall to the floor, casting out a rather disturbing clank. She almost shed tears, the look in his eyes... so very hopeless, he was just so full of despair.

"No, it cannot continue this way." She looked passed this one shocking sight, only to view more of the same tortures. She covered her mouth as she saw the abhorrent tools which only a doctor would require... but Erik was not a doctor. Saws, knives, tubes, metal objects which could only cause unimaginable throe.

"Where did you get those..." Her voice was now the voice of harsh flame. Her eyes lit up with a mad anger towards these contraptions of hell, which were far beyond anything she could bring herself to understand.

He just knew this was the most foolish thing he'd ever done, letting her witness such horrors. "I, created them," he admitted slowly, "Many years ago, I was... under the command of a higher power..."

"Where?" She demanded.

"In Persia," He replied.

"Who was this power?"

"Kristen, calm down, you're beginning to worry me..."

"I'm worrying you? Erik, you have a shrine to the devil in here! and I'M WORRYING YOU?" Her voice carried through the dungeons, it's sharp volume nearly ruining his hearing.

"You wanted to know these things!" he countered, as she began to softly sob, and instantly he touched her face. She looked up at him, as tears streamed down her porcelain skin

"I'm so sorry Erik" She whispered, which totally caught him off guard. Sorry?

"For what?" he requested, honestly wondering why she would be penitent for anything right now.

"For not being able to apprehend these miserable things. All of this... Erik, I can't understand it, why you would keep such things here"

"Where else would I put them?"

"Why do you keep nostalgia of Christine Daee?" She asked, her sadness was evidently increased just then, her tears destroyed her fair complexion.

"I removed them from the lair. Until you came, they decorated my dwellings, like haunting spirits." He paused. "I was in love with her Kristen, I loved her. When you came... I couldn't keep them out there, not with you here... my Kristen." His thumb traced her jaw line, as she looked up into his eyes. "I never expected to see them again, but this stubborn young seductress tends to put light into every aspect of my life, including the darkness." The look in his eyes seemed to melt her wholly. How he could turn pure terror into absolute temptation amazed her.

"Did you ever... put anyone, in those... machines?" She asked. Suddenly sparked within her was an interest, as she draped her arms around his neck. This was insanity at it's finest, and there was nothing to keep her from falling into it completely. A large part of her loathed to hear the answer, but also dreaded not knowing. Danger, she thought, it was all so enticing. She didn't know what had come over her before, they were only machines... it wasn't like he was going to put_her_ into any of those contrivances, she was completely safe from them.

"I thought about it..." he began, "But my creations were only that... my creations. I never actually victimized anyone, but my creations were used by others... to victimize."

"You never, not even once, wanted to use them?"

He quietly chuckled, "Wanting, and doing, are two different matters entirely." he told her. "Many times I have imagined impairing some of the fools who disgrace my theatre."

She let go of him, to carefully walk towards his laboratory of torment. Her heart rate dramatically increased as she looked over every single morbid instrument which filled the confines. Several of his notebooks were scattered about, and she was astonished to open one and see such... education. Diagrams, writings, and descriptions of the human anatomy.

"Erik, you are knowledgeable of all this?" She looked towards him. He watched her stand behind that dusty lab table, he seriously wondered about her. Just moment ago he feared she would break down completely, and now she was the most interested woman he'd ever laid his eyes on. He almost smiled,

"I have learned most of what I know from the Populaire's library, in fact... most of these books were stolen from there... that would include the candles, their holders, the shelves... the"

"Where did you get the coffin?" She asked. Now he gave her a weird eye, "You didn't dig up a grave, did you?" She asked. He was silent. This was all the evidence she needed. She walked back to him from around the table, "Erik... you disturb the_dead_ so that_you_ can rest in peace?" She asked, and laughed a nasty little laugh, "Why sleep in a coffin when you have that beautiful swan bed out there?" she asked.

"A coffin... is the only bed I deserve." he told her, and once again, all cheer was swept clean from the atmosphere surrounding them. He hated himself so much... still! after she had proven to him in more ways than one that he was loved.

"You slept in my bed with me though..." She pondered aloud.

He nodded, "There is not a thing I could deny you, Kristen" he told her, bringing a skilled hand back to her delicate features, and brushing her skin so softly.

She brought him to her in another warm embrace, and rested her head upon his chest, "Why did you conceal this past from me for so long?" She asked warmly, the comfort she felt in his arms was clearly articulated in her words.

"These are thing I am unwilling to let you brood over. It was my fate, not yours."

"Oh... Erik, you have to let me into your life," She said, her voice betraying her. She was completely sated within his hold.

He held her to him like she was the very life he was struggling to keep. She was his life, without her, he would be dead. If she hadn't fallen into his existence that day, he would not be alive now, he was sure of it. In all truth, she was the one who truly rescued him.

She felt his chest heave with inhalation, and she closed her eyes. "It can't be very comfortable in that... thing" She said, referring to the coffin, his resting place. She couldn't believe he would punish himself in such a way, but as she lifted her head to look at it, resting her head now on his shoulder, she couldn't help but feel the slightest attraction to it's profoundly morbid nature. He was like the vampire she used to read about in stories, he was mysterious, dangerous, and haunting. He was all of those things, but she knew that this was far from a story. She was not a mere character in a book. This was real, he was really there before her, and no story could explain this moment. She knew that she was clouding her inner fears by allowing his comfort, but it was _him_, _Erik_, her lover. She had to accept every unearthly feature along with every passion they shared.

"I love you Erik" She told him, breaking their embrace so that she could look into his eyes. She knew that he knew, but after seeing him in such anguish, returning to his past... she had to reassure him, no matter how_sure_ he was.

"I know," he replied to her, "And I love you too, Kristen" He whispered sincerely.

"Will you do one thing for me Erik?" She then asked. He remained silent, and awaited her reply. He pretty much knew, with her persistent way of things, what she was going to ask.

"Will you take off that horrid mask?" She asked. He shook his head at her,

"You're impossible, Kristen!" he said, removing the plastic which concealed his hideous birth mark. She took it from his hands and tossed it over onto the table,

"Stop wearing it around me," she gently demanded, "It's more frightening than any part of _you_."

"I shall never understand your way of thinking" he told her, taking a strand of her hair within his fingers and softly following it to it's end.

"Perhaps we will never fully understand each other." She said, taking his lips with hers before he could even utter the slightest reply. His eyes closed, and his manner relented prominently. This was her power.

"This door will stay open," She told him, her lips still pressed to his somewhat as she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper, "And tonight I'll sleep with you."

Upon hearing this, he broke their kiss completely, "In here?" He asked. She nodded.  
"No Kristen, you will not sleep in here. This is no place for a woman of your excellence."

"It's no place for you either." she said, "It's obvious to me that you don't agree with me there... if you are with me... it will not be as if I am sleeping in a coffin."

"We will never fit in there, the both of us." he said. Anything to prevent her from falling into dreams in such a ghastly place as a coffin.

She smiled sweetly at him... something she rarely did, "I guess we'll just have to see for ourselves whether there is room enough or not."

"No." He said, "No... there's no way I'm letting you sleep in there, in here! this is no place for... you."

"For?" For a split second, she was almost happy. Her predictions, or more like wishes, was to hear him say, _For my wife_, but after that illusive moment, she knew those would not be his words. "You paused Erik, what was about to roll off your tongue before you caught yourself?" There was definitely something hidden there, within his words, and she now longed to know if she guessed correctly.

"Kristen, just listen to me. I cannot bear the thought of your sleeping in a place like this... this place of such sadness for me."

"You must erase that" She told him, and grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt, and pulled him towards his deathly bed, "Get in" She ordered.

"Kristen... I"

He was silenced by that look in her eyes. The Phantom... threatened? He could have laughed to death at himself, but he actually obeyed her commands.

"There is no room for you here" he said.

Two seconds later she rested on top of him, smiling down at him. The lid was then closed, as if someone had pushed it shut, or perhaps her movement was a bit clumsy. Either way, they were concealed together in darkness.

"Well... isn't this wonderful" He stated sarcastically. Just as he began to move his hand towards the lid, to push it open, he felt her hand encircle his wrist, and stop him.

"Shhhhh." She whispered, her index finger gently pressing against his lips. "It_is_ wonderful." She began to kiss him softly, falling into him completely. All of these terrifying things, including this very coffin, were truly frightening, but not unendurable. She decided she had to accept the terror, because there was no other choice. She had no other choice, but to live within this strange world of darkness, and be home in this glorious fate. She couldn't leave Erik in such emptiness now, this_was_ her home.


	24. The Tragedy of Christine

**A/N: Ok, now you really have to read the book to understand some parts of this chapter. Just so you know, the Daroga, or the Persian, was the person who _really _helped Raoul down to the dungeons when Christine was kidnapped, in the book. But just for this story: Persian Erik's old friend, Madame Giry Woman who helped Raoul, I hope this helps you, if you're still confused, just e-mail me, or leave questions in the reviews... **

**Otherwise, I hope you like this chapter... with the arrival of this new character, some really surprising things are going to happen... you're not going to believe what I've got coming for you! Well, I mean... you can try to guess, hehehehe, wait, that laugh is too innocent for you all... WHUAHAHAHA! WAIT IMPATIENTLY FOR THE NEXT SCANDAL! MUAHAHAHAHA!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's character.**

The curtains in the de Chagny's room were drawn, but no light attempted to penetrate through them. Christine lay softly, somewhere between dreams and consciousness, in the dead silence of night. She had gone to bed early, so desperate to rid her mind of every fear she was beginning to feel, but now, as she slowly stirred, those horrors were soon to be magnified.

As she turned over in her waking, reaching out for Raoul, she quickly came to realize that the bed was empty. The imprints of his former presence there marked the sheets. She put her hand on them... the imprinted mattress was not warm, he must have left long ago. She quickly sat up in a panicked state, and hurried to find her lovely white day dress. When she had fallen to sleep, he was by her side, insisting that he would not let her sleep alone... but where was he now? Was he forced or did he leave with intention?

Never in her life did she dress so apace, not caring about the smaller details. _Raoul_, she thought, and she could just picture him, tied to that awful portcullis, under the evil hands of the Phantom of the Opera once more. She hurried out of her room, and down the corridor. Not a sound was to be heard, for everyone in the Opera would be asleep at this time. The stillness of the halls disturbed her deeply as she passed through the maze of backstage passages, and into the main rotunda, lit only by the few candles set there to give off light in the case of an emergency. She knew she was being foolish, running around aimlessly, looking for him when she hadn't the slightest clue where he would be. _This place is awful_, she thought to herself, and she knew she should never have come.

Who was the one person she could count on? Not many had helped her in her life... and Raoul wasn't an option right now... as he was the one person she was determined to find. Without wasting another moment, she scurried through another darkened tunnel, stopping before the ballet dormitories. She could feel the blood rushing to her face, as she panted for breath. Such exercise was not the norm for this wealthy young countess. With a gentle fist, she knocked, and waited.

Young Meg Giry opened the door, rubbing her eyes, and yawning.

"Christine, what's wrong?" She asked in the softest voice, she appeared so very tired, her beautiful blue eyes were bloodshot, and her golden hair was a mass of tangles.

"Meg" Christine whispered urgently, "It is Raoul, I cannot find him, I'm so worried. He said he would not leave my side! He told me he would not let me sleep alone! And now I cannot find him!"

"Calm down Christine" Meg said, "Perhaps he did not go far, perhaps he is somewhere close." the young ballerina tried to hush her friend, but by the look on the former Opera singer's face, she would not be succeeding any time soon.

"You must help me Meg" Christine begged desperately, "I must find him."

Meg sighed, "What is it that you would like me to do Christine? If he is gone, surely there is no way I can help."

"You must!" Christine pleaded, her hands held out before her as if she were praying. Meg frowned, and mumbled something incoherently.

"All right! all right, I will help you" she finally said, and stepped out into the hallway. She wore nothing but her lovely white night gown, which was probably a bit more revealing than she would have liked, but then again, she had no plans of walking around the Opera this late at night. Her mother would have killed her if she caught her in that gown, which was little more than lingerie.

"What could have happened to him?" Christine muttered.

Meg shook her head, "I know what is going through your head Christine, you think that the_Phantom_ has him, don't you?"

"How can I not? After all that's happened?"

"Christine... listen to me, I've told you already, Erik no longer pursues you or your husband. He has found his happiness, it would not be wise for you to go down there, you could ruin everything. Kristen Verlaine... remember? she loves him! He loves her too, and they may have reason to be married soon."

"I still find that hard to believe" Christine whispered.

Meg sighed, "Whatever... Christine, It's too late, or too early for this nonsense. I know that if I leave you... you will just go down there on your own, and end up dead, or injured, or something. I'll take you! But you must promise me one thing Christine"

"What?" she asked.

"You will allow me to search his dungeons alone. Kristen has given me permission to intrude, but I don't want Erik to see you!"

"Don't you think that the Phantom would have already seen me?" she asked.

"Christine... if Erik had seen you, you would know it by now. Let's go" She grabbed Christine by the wrist, and began to pull her towards the chapel.

...(Shift Scene)...

Back in the comfort of the beautiful swan bed, Kristen rested beside Erik, her arm around his abdomen, her head resting on his chest. Somewhere deep down, in the depths of her disturbing nature, she wanted to remain in that coffin with him before. It was in no way uncomfortable, lying on top of him like that, but truthfully, there was no room for what had come next.

She had persisted with her inexorable customs, fighting with him, arguing that she_wanted_ to be in there, trying to convince him that she might actually like the strange and twisted objects in that domain, but he didn't buy into that for a second. He lifted the lid and carried her struggling form out of the room, and into the next. Only did she agree to being forced out when she realized certain items of clothing were about to be discarded.

She completely gave into him, incapable of resisting such allurement. It didn't matter where they made love, it only mattered that they did. As she held onto him, the memory could not escape her. The memory of feeling such rapture, such climatic ecstasy. This second time was far greater than the first, in both the emotional and physical. If this was the way they were to end every conflict, big or small, she would welcome warmly a severely troubled relationship. The things he made her feel were too wonderful for words.

She lightly sighed, her eyes closed, her body so close to his. "I still think it would have been possible in... there" she said to him, her voice just riddled with satisfaction. She looked up into his eyes, and pulled herself up so she was at eye level with him, "I know I reacted... rather frightened, but I'm not frightened, not anymore." She told him, as she traced his distorted features with her thumb. "It's such a shame you lack creativity though," She joked, her smile revealing slight sarcasm.

"I? Lack creativity?" he looked back at her, "How..."

"Wait!" Kristen snapped up, her eyes wide and her right ear towards the doorway. "Do you hear that?" She asked.

"No..." he replied, "I don't."

She quickly jumped out of bed and threw on her night gown, "I hear the water..."

"Of course... there is a lake you know..." he said, thinking maybe she was on her way to insanity.

"No" She said, "Don't be ridiculous Erik, I mean, I hear something out there."

Erik left the bed with haste, and rapidly fastened his robe around him, retrieved his mask and advanced towards the light of the main lair, "I should have taken care to make this place more presentable." He put the mask to his distorted face.

"What's going on?" She asked, following him.

"You won't be hungry any more." He told her, "I've taken care of our lack of provisions."

She frowned in confusion. It wasn't until she saw the boat drifting towards them that she knew what he was rambling on about. A guest? "Erik?" she looked to him. This was certainly unexpected.

Erik walked to the shore of the lair, and greeted this strange man. Kristen watched, who was he? With his dark grey hat and cloak, he was virtually indistinguishable.

"Last time Erik! I will come here no more! I mean it! I hate this place!" Erik offered the strange man a hand out of the boat, but the man did not take it. He simply stumbled out on his own, and looked up at the Phantom, revealing his dark skin, and rather annoyed facial expression. "I came here only because you were once kind enough to spare my life, but I will not return! I am going back to Persia in a few weeks! GOD, I hate this place!" He looked around, scanning the lair with amazement. "And I never expected you would stoop to such poor housekeeping."

"Nadir, there is someone I want you to meet." Erik said.

Nadir, the Daroga, looked up to the beautiful young woman who stood beside Erik, and he fell very silent.

"This is Kristen Verlaine" Erik said, "Kristen, I want you to meet Nadir, an old friend of mine."

"You sick bastard" Nadir spat, "Is this your latest victim? Perhaps I should flee now and spare being once more locked in a basement full of gun powder!"

"She is not my prisoner, you fool," Erik sneered, "I warn you to wisely choose your words, you stand on thin ice here."

"Gun powder?" Kristen asked, looking to Erik. Just what_had_ happened that night?

"Miss Verlaine, I..." Nadir stopped halfway in his advance towards her, once he saw her face, that is. Instantaneously he noticed the burn scars, he almost accused Erik of marring her aloud, but decided it would be best to keep that denouncement silent.

Kristen frowned, another stare? "I was burned in a fire" She stated, rather defensively.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss..." Nadir turned to Erik, then looked back at Kristen, "You live here?" he queried, with a look of pure disbelief on his Persian features.

"Yes" She said. Whoever this man was, she was beginning to feel slightly annoyed at his presence there. "Is that sodifficult to accept?"

"Mademoiselle, if you only knew..." He said. Erik seemed to scorn in silence at the man, as he watched him go to the boat and retrieve several large packages, bringing them to the shore of the darkly realm. Perhaps he shouldn't have invited this _friend_, but there was no other option, and he was not going to risk venturing out into public. He knew he was more than capable of remaining unseen, but why roam amongst such hateful beings?... humans... and their ignorance. This was a far better plan, to be sure.

"I don't know what your problem is..." Kristen began, her eyes burned, and her voice was that of anger, "And I..."

"Enough" Erik said gently, taking her hand into his and coaxing her to be silent. She sighed with mild frustration, and temporarily accepted. Why argue with a man she didn't know any way? He would get_his_ when they were next alone. "Nadir, I assure you I take no more prisoners. In fact..." he turned to Kristen, slightly smiled, but then he paused. Completely aware that he did not finish that sentence, he turned back to the Persian "Nadir, I thank you for this, you have been exceedingly helpful.

"Any my pay?" the Daroga requested. He looked as if his skin were crawling, totally disgusted with the thought of being back under the Populaire again.

Kristen's fists were clenching together tightly. She hated it when he chose to be vague... and most of all she hated secrets. _In fact_... IN FACT? She could feel her blood boiling, this was truly thwarting. When this... Nadir left, she would not be afraid to let emotions flow.

Erik tossed the man a red velvet sack, coins clanking within. Nadir caught the sack, and opened it, as if checking for counterfeits. He looked up at the Phantom,

"I'm sure that is enough to get you to Persia, and lodge you for more than a few years..." Erik said. Nadir nodded,

"Quite" he replied, "I will be on my way now." He gave one more look of repugnance towards the cavern, before turning his back on it all, and proceeding to the boat.

Kristen looked up at Erik, and as he looked back at her, he could see the fire in her eyes. She looked angry... what on earth for?

"Er..." Just as she was about to address him about this... she was silenced by the creaking noise of an opening door. Immediately she turned her head to face the mirror passage, and watched as young Meg came through the doorway. Kristen suddenly smiled,

"MEG!" she said happily, and hurried over to her friend, "I told you to visit, why did you delay?" Erik watched her, and lifted a brow. So mad at first, and then so happy? Nadir whipped around, then gave Erik the most bothered glance,

"How many women _do_ you have frequenting this place?"

Erik covered his eyes with a hand, "For crying out loud, I expected your brain to be better developed than this."

Kristen looked over her shoulder, then at Meg, "Listen, I think you've come at a bad time" She said.

Meg looked up at her, "Kristen, this is more serious than you think. I am not just here to visit you, I must speak with you in private." She said. The young ballerina peered passed Kristen. "Who is that?" she asked curiously.

"Go, we'll go to your dormitory, we'll talk on the way, we should not stay here." Kristen said. "Erik, I am going to accompany Meg for a while,"

Erik nodded and watched the two leave.

"She is certainly beautiful," the Daroga stated, looking once more into the sack of gold coins. Erik frowned,

"Which one?" he asked suspiciously. Nadir looked up to this Phantom with wide eyes. He hadn't realized that a comment like that could be taken in that sort of bad way,

"Oh, by no means did I mean to imply anything... you know I would never come between you and... Is she your wife?" Nadir asked. Erik sighed,

"No, she is not my wife... though she may as well be" He muttered. Nadir looked at him sceptically,

"She willingly lives down here? with you?"

Erik nearly seized the man by the throat. Just moments ago he was brought from such a terrible state to such bliss by the very woman whom Nadir questioned... now this_friend_ of his was bringing back old feelings... old emotions... the past, which he so longed to forget.

"Why must you ask these things, you feeble-minded man!" Suddenly it became a struggle not to kill this man where he stood. He hadn't felt the urge to kill in so long... he could not! He could not kill this man! His mind battled a bloody war over this, he eventually came to a consensus with himself, the Daroga would live.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry," Nadir said, "If it makes you feel any better, both women were rather charming, but how can you trust so many others, down here? Are you not worried that word will get out that you still live? I saw the newspaper Erik, that was quite the article... you certainly succeed in tricking the public."

"Meg, she is the daughter of Madame Giry... And it is not I who wants her here... I find her rather irritating, but Kristen admires the girl, I cannot restrain from her the friendship of others. She is not my prisoner, she knows this is her home as much as it is mine... she is allowed to have visitors."

Nadir stood astonished. Erik? A caring man? Yeah right!

"Well, I'm surprised. The woman has managed to change you, Erik." Nadir, even after having accepted this news, was still in disbelief. He remembered Erik's obsession with Christine Daae, how could he move on so quickly? He cursed himself for having such care towards others, because now he worried that Erik was using the lovely Kristen as a rebound for his tragedy with the young opera diva.

"Is there something wrong?" Erik asked, he saw the look in the Daroga's eyes, the man was definitely uneasy. Nadir quickly pulled from his mind the first lie he could think of,

"It is just this place again, Erik, I hate the underground, and if you do not mind, I think I shall make my way back to the surface. I have much planning ahead of me concerning my return to Persia."

"Are you not worried? I was under the impression you had some rather strong feelings about that place, since the death of your family..." Erik said. He remembered hearing that Nadir's whole family had been taken out in a nasty brawl amongst armed men, his wife and children, but then again, the news was passed to him from a journalist whom he had been spying on in the streets, he could not know if the story was completely accurate.

Nadir cast a solemn glance to the stone floor, "I cannot run from the past. Persia is my home, no matter what."

"I am truly sorry for your loss." Erik said. He knew what it was like... to have everything you love taken from you, to love someone and fear their death. Kristen's near death situations were what seemed to bring them closer together, but never was he more afraid than the day he kneeled at Kristen's bedside, and prayed for her to live.

"I cannot stay here a moment longer" The Daroga stated. He had to leave, before he became too choked up. "I thank you for your... mercy." He voiced, "Some of the things I said should have been silenced. I hope that things work out for you and Kristen, she is truly a beautiful lady if ever I have seen one. Goodbye Erik," he said, climbing into the boat.

Erik watched, and nodded, "Take care, Nadir."

...(shift scene)...

Kristen passed through the tunnel with Meg, through the labyrinth of unfriendly tunnels, until making it to the top of the final stair case. She frowned as she was met face to face with Christine de Chagny,

"Meg, what is she doing here?" Kristen enquired startled.


	25. With This Ring

**A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers, I love you guys! Here's the thing... I know that sometimes words in this story get meshed together... I don't know how that happens. I read over each chapter atleast three times, and when it shows up on Fanfiction, sometimes, they just get meshed. I have a crappy computer system, perhaps that has something to do with it... see, if i owned phantom i could afford a better one, lol. But if you notice any severe errors, Those are the ones to tell me about... otherwise, my little problem with sticking words can't really be fixed :p, but thank you for asking... never hesitate to ask people stuff, hehe**

**I think you know by the title of this chapter that some dramatic things will take place... **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters. (Damn it, I want Gerard Butler!)**

Kristen glared fiercely at the woman she now saw before her. Before, at their first meeting, Christine hadn't seemed so bad, but now? It was apparent to her that any woman or man who dared cause Erik harm, was an enemy towards her as well.

Christine took a few steps back, her large brown eyes just laced with fear. Meg watched in disbelief, "Kristen, don't do this... it is not what you think." She said.

"Why are you here Christine?"

"I..." The frightened young woman began, but could not find the inner strength to utter another syllable.

"For crying out loud! Kristen, she is not here to harm your precious Phantom!" Meg snapped, "We have a serious problem, and it must be dealt with."

"The only problem I see before me here is this heartless..."

"NO MORE!" Meg shrieked. "Christine is not here to hurt Erik, she is here to help him!"

"Tell me what is going on Meg, tell me now, or by God you'll wish silence was a non-existent noise."

"Last night, Raoul told Christine he would not leave her side. When she woke up, he was not there... and we do not know where he has gone, but we suspect it has something to do with the Phantom." Meg spoke all in one breath, concluding with a series of rapid inhalations. Kristen gently gasped.

"Why did you even have to come here Christine?" She asked, her voice was not so harsh, but more sad, more worried. "Could you not have sent your wealth through the post? You knew what terrible fate would inevitably befall upon your return."

"Christine didn't know that Erik was still alive" Meg softly defended, "She read the newspaper, everyone thinks he's dead."

"Well not anymore!" Kristen bellowed, "Why must everyone try to bring him down?" she asked, "Why must society shun the first sign of difference?"

"I'm sorry Kristen," Christine stated with a very shaky voice, and said no more. Tears glazed her doe eyes, her fragile form vented distress. She was so delicate, Kristen wondered how she even survived the Phantom kidnapping her. She was sorry? Well she ought to be, Kristen thought, but certainly fighting now would not do a thing to help the situation.

"We will achieve nothing by remaining here" Kristen then said, "We should ascend to your dormitory Meg, we will figure out then what should be done."

Meg nodded, though somewhat annoyed. She would have rather spent the rest of the night sleeping.

"I didn't know... I didn't know for the life of me that he would still be alive." Christine whispered with a hint of despair. Kristen sighed, she was such a child, a frightened little girl who didn't really know anything. She could feel her anger towards the young lady begin to subside, she could not stay angry at someone whose only fault was ignorance.

"He is very scheming." Kristen quietly conveyed, with a smile slightly controlling her lips. She was so kindled by his history of deviousness... that would never end, for sure.

"It is not Erik we are worried about" Meg said, "If Raoul is out to hunt him down, he is only digging his own grave. We cannot have more deaths infesting the Populaire! We'll never return to success if there is more slander."

_Let him die_, Kristen thought. That foolish man. She hated Christine's husband, even though she should have thanked him with all her heart for taking Christine away, but somehow she hated anything that caused her beloved any kind of pain, including Raoul himself.

Tears were rolling down Christine's cheeks, her trembling right hand covered her mouth as they departed from the hidden tunnels, out into the main passage. "Calm down Christine" Meg said, offering a friendly hand to the crying lady's shoulder, "All will work out fine, just try to believe" She attempted to comfort the girl as much as she could, but her efforts were wasted.

"You've always been so content with believing," Christine murmured. Kristen couldn't believe her ears. If Christine would have spoken those words a little lighter, perhaps they could have been taken as a compliment, but she dared speak to Meg as if she had no clue of what life was... when she herself was a naive little _bitch_.

Meg was quiet, she only nodded, and continued silently towards her bedchamber. She told herself that Christine was in distress, and she could not be blamed for her harsh tone. Was this her second time being accused of not knowing what she was talking about? She nearly slammed the door against the wall as she opened it, Kristen knew she was offended, but she lacked the courage, or the gall to vent it.

"Where could he be?" Meg questioned, trying to think.

"Perhaps he is with your mother, Meg" Kristen suggested, "He received her rather... deceiving assistance before."

"No more insults" Meg said, "That's in the past, just leave it there!"

"What about the managers?" she then offered. "Perhaps we should question them..."

"What do you think Christine?" Meg asked, but the young woman could only put forth silence. She sat on Meg's bed and covered her eyes with both her hands,

"What is this?" Kristen moved over to Christine's side, and sat with her, "Christine, you must stop this! You mustn't cry, it will help nothing. It is not hopeless, Meg is right, everything will be fine!"

"I sacrificed my future for him!" the crying woman lashed out, "I offered the Phantom my mind, my body, and my soul... and he had the heart to let us go. Now Raoul's going to RUIN ALL THAT BY RETURNING TO DEFEAT OLD DEMONS!" Both Meg and Kristen stood perplexed. Christine was actually snubbing Raoul! Kristen almost laughed... Finally!

"What he is doing_is_ wrong," Meg said, kneeling down before Christine, "And we cannot allow his death. He is not only condemning Erik's act of kindness, he is not only putting himself in danger, but he is also placing the future of the Populaire in jeopardy. For the sake of everyone, we must find him, and put a stop to his horrid goal."

Kristen couldn't believe herself, she actually hugged the countess, "We'll stop him" She said, "We'll save Raoul, and then you can yell at him all you want."

Christine emitted the softest bit of laughter, before wiping away her tears, and agreeing.

"I'll talk with the managers," Kristen said, "Meg, you go with Christine to speak with your mother... we'll finish this thing before it has a chance to get serious." The three girls made their little treaty there in the darkness of Meg's dormitory, then parted their separate ways.

...(Scene shift)...

The Parisian streets were damp, and vacant. The lights of the avenue lanterns were the only illumination, casting their sparkling reflection in the puddles on the pavement. Nadir could not believe he still remembered his old route. As he made his way to the surface, he heard the unmistakable sound of voices, echoing down the alley way near the Rue Scribe.

"You will be paid accordingly," Said one man.

"This will make the front page," Said another. It was evident the other man was English, he spoke French with a strange accent. Then, Nadir recognized this last voice, it could have been no other than Raoul de Chagny himself,

"I want the best of the Parisian navy here by dawn. The Phantom of the Opera still lives, I want him dead!" Apparently, he was utilizing old connections, which had not been disconnected.

Nadir, with his ear pressed against the cold metal of the inner vent, heard the sound of horse hooves and wheels boom through the narrow alley way. Then, a shrill laugh. "I've waited too long for this" the Count said, before Nadir heard his steps travel down the side of the building, and fade off. He was left with the eerie silence of the empty Paris night, and the feeling of sickness in the pit of his stomach. If only he had chosen a different pathway! He wouldn't have had to witness this madness. Raoul and Christine were supposed to be gone! What was Raoul doing here? And was the beautiful Christine here as well? He could only wonder, as he made his way back down into the shadows of the hidden labyrinth. The man wanted Erik dead, Nadir couldn't let that happen! What a revolting turn of events this was.

...(scene shift)...

_Useless! Completely useless_!Kristen thought angrily to herself as she left the manager's office. First of all, she could not believe that Firmin of all people was passed out on the floor like that, obviously drunk... Secondly, she couldn't believe that Armande wouldn't know anything about Raoul... when the man was a guest under his very roof! Well... Kristen would always look at the Populaire as Erik's domain, but this idiot was the manager, he should know more than nothing!

This was becoming too much. After the frustration of Armande's lack of knowledge, she had searched the Populaire many times over trying to find Christine and Meg. She found them not in Antoinette's quarters, nor in Meg's. She became panicked with the notion that Meg may have taken Christine down to the lair... what would Erik do upon discovering her return? Then it dawned on her... he still didn't know she was back!

She knew the endless tunnels by heart now, and she basically fell to the fifth cellar level... never having gone that fast before. She charged down the last gloomy passage, and burst through the mirror, nearly swinging it off it's hinges. "ER...ik." She paused mid-word. How long had she spent above ground? The first thing she noticed was, no longer did the place seem such a mess. Everything was in order. The strange man was gone. She stepped into the dungeon, closing the mirror door behind her. It was simply beautiful... breathtaking. Erik had said he was going to fix this place, but she never could have imagined...

The same tapestries of red velvet hung from the walls. The once stone cold floor was covered in a sort of carpet, or rug... obviously Persian, with it's abstract designs, the colours also that of warmth... reds, oranges, and slight decorations of green and yellow. The furniture was different, grander, as if stolen from a palace, with victorian design. The organ sat against the wall, beside a brand new desk of dark polished wood, the second desk which would grace this dungeon. On top of it sat heaps of blank pages, books, quill pens and ink. What really caught her breath was the fact that the wooden door was gone, and was replaced by yet another velvet curtain. She was amazed, he'd managed this in the space of three or four hours, how? Well... he_was_ the Phantom right? capable of anything...

"ERIK?" She called, walking over this new flooring. She came to the hidden kitchen, and walked in. Somehow she_knew_ he would be in here... as the mention of food had been brought up when that odd looking man made use of Erik's invitation.

"Erik, how did you manage all this?" She asked him. She found him, dressed in the deepest black, polishing the freshly stocked cabinets, putting almost as much care into those panes as he did into his music... which she lamented never hearing much of.

"Kristen!" he turned to her, seemingly startled at her unexpected entrance. She frowned at him, and upon approaching him, she removed that dreadful mask again. This time he did nothing, only accepted her... _rules_. "You like it?" He asked, taking the mask from her hands and placing it on the wooden counter top.

She nodded in response, "It's gorgeous," She told him, "I'll never understand your magic."

"You know that it's all for you, right?" he asked her softly, looking down into her eyes with an enormous amount of love and devotion. She seemed paralysed once more under his gaze, but would not allow it to last,

"I do," she replied, and embraced him warmly, "Erik, listen... there is something that I have to tell you. I really don't want to say this... but I recall telling you that there must be no secrets between us, and I fear that something is about to blow up in our very faces anyway."

He instantly became concerned, "Kristen, is everything all right?" he asked, holding her at arms length,

As much as she tried to fight them, she lost the battle. Tears began to fall from her eyes. Now Erik knew this was serious, and his heart rate increased with the thought that_she_ could be in danger.

"Take me out on the lake?" She asked softly, sniffling.

"A...anything Kristen," He replied, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen. She did not see him repossess the mask, and place it within the pocket of his fine black coat. The boat which Nadir had taken, and not returned, was not needed. Kristen was amazed to see him walk to the darkest corner of the shore and drag out another gondola. It was white, beautiful, the shape of a swan at it's front. She nearly snorted, no doubt that boat had once been intended for the use of Christine _Daae_. She realized that the_thought_ of Christine, and the_person_ Christine were two different things to her entirely. The lady who had been crying in Meg's room earlier was not the cold hearted monster that Kristen envisioned when she thought of the woman who broke Erik's heart. She could be content with two different perceptions though... being angry wasn't_always_ so bad.

"My love, tell me what ails you" He whispered to her, as he carried her into the boat. She sat carefully within it's walls, and he sat behind her, retrieving the staff, and moving the boat away from the shore. "You've never asked me to take you out onto the water before," he told her. She could feel his breath brushing against her ear, as he spoke with his head gently against hers. She leaned into him, the curve of her neck against his left shoulder, and her temple against his skin. His one arm wrapped lovingly around her.

"Erik, you'll never leave me?" She asked, sniffling once more, as tears began to make trails down her soft skin. The very question brought from within her a sadness she could not describe. She knew he would say no, but the true answer would only be revealed upon the day he came face to face with Christine de Chagny herself.

"What makes you question such things?" he asked her, "Of course I will never leave you Kristen, I love you." He said, kissing her temple, and holding her closer.

"You loved Christine," She said. He shut his eyes,

"You think I still love her, don't you" he said. "Kristen, you must st..."

"If you had to chose between her and I right now, would you marry Christine, or would you marry me?" she asked. As soon as the words escaped her mouth she wished she had not said them. Sure, the choosing part was fine, but did she have to bring up marriage? Her stupid subconscious! Ever since she was aware of the possibility that she just may be with child, marriage was the only thing she could think of, and now it came out in the moment of it's most minimal expectation.

She thought she heard him stifle a gasp. She turned her head to look up at him, she could feel the muscles in his jaw tightening. She realized her foolish mistake. She could not know whether it was the thought of marriage which held him silent, or the thought of Christine. She turned her head, and rested against him once more... she regretted even asking. This had nothing to do with telling him that Christine was back... it had more to do with her yearning to be officially bound to him. Now, not only was she being vague, but she was being selfish.

"Kristen..." Upon hearing her name from his lips, she sat forward, and turned around to face him,

"Erik, I'm sorry... I am fully aware that I worded that wrongly..."

He took both of her hands, "No, Kristen, you didn't" He said. Now she was burdened by the inability to speak. The boat seemed to drift on it's own, as Erik pulled the staff towards them and allowed it to rest within. He took both of her hands within his again, and she stared up into his jade eyes,

"You have every right to feel this way, after seeing the things you saw within the room I've kept hidden from you for so long." he paused. "Christine Daae... she was the only one naive enough to succumb to the illusion that an angel was speaking to her, and the only one with any real talent here. There was nothing for me here until she came, but my intentions were never to become obsessed with her. She was merely an instrument to me... who could take my music, and let the world hear it. She didn't love me... and in truth, I didn't genuinely love her either... I've never known love, Kristen, I could not distinguish between love and obsession, until you came into my life."

His words brought to her eyes an increased amount of tears. She could not believe he was saying these things to her, she could not believe that someone so genius, so unbelievable... could feel so strongly towards her.

"You hated me, remember?" He asked her, warmly cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand. She looked up at him and smiled through her tears, she didn't know whether they were out of sadness now, or joy. "But then you saved me, from everything I was afraid of. She could have never done what you did for me, what you do for me... and I've never felt, for anyone, what I feel for you. Kristen, if you're asking me to chose between you and Daae..."

Her eyes closed, which ironically had the effect of an opening flood gate, allowing tears to flow non stop down her beautiful face. This was almost too much for her,

"I choose you, Kristen," he whispered to her, holding her hands a bit tighter. She opened her eyes, which were at once met with his.

"If she were here now... you would not want to be with her?" she asked.

"I would not" he said strongly, and brought her to him... taking extreme care not to disturb the boat. She was literally lifted and brought to sit atop his thighs, her arms around his neck, "You are the only woman I care about Kristen."

She gently sighed. She'd got the answer she was looking for... but not in the right way. "You don't believe me?" He asked her.

"I believe you." She told him, "It's just that when I apologized for wording my question wrong, you told me that I didn't, and I expected... more, I guess."

"More?" He asked... then he realized. The confused expression was quickly abolished from his features, and replaced with understanding. "You asked me who I would marry..."

She nodded slowly. This was wrong... all wrong. She didn't want it to be like this... she was basically proposing to_him_ now! when she'd dreamed of seeing him kneel down before her and offer_her_ the engagement ring. First of all, that was ruined now, secondly, he could never get away with that in a boat upon these misty waters.

He carefully wiped the tears from her face, and looked into her crying eyes, "You really want that, don't you?" he softly voiced. She sniffled yet again, and nodded. He brought her down into a loving embrace, holding her in such a comforting way.

She felt him take her hand in his, "Then... we shall be married," he told her. Now she nearly broke down, as she saw him take from his pocket a small golden ring, with several stones of red, possibly rubies, embedded within it's beauty. "Marry me, Kristen," he said, handing her the ring. It would be useless now to try and dry her tears..._like_ a flood, they would not stop. She took the ring within her shaking hands. When he saw that she was too astounded to make any sort of action, he gently took the ring from her and placed it upon the ring finger of her left hand.

Her heart was beating almost painfully against her ribs, her mind was a mess of thoughts. As if the light at the end of darkness was presenting itself, she could feel. She could feel so much, as if her life was starting all over again. She tightly wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him madly, completely forgetting about why she had brought him there in the first place.


	26. Prologue To Disaster

**A/N: I half expect you guys to totally abandon the story by now, since I haven't updated in so long... I'm soo soo sorry, if you knew how busy I was you'd understand (Weeps like a little baby) I'm so afraid of not getting into a good University that homework is all I can think about... but nevertheless, I've got a new chapter for you here, I hope you like it... please Review, (I just know I"m going to get some hate mail for being away so long)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters.**

"Rest now, Kristen," Erik whispered softly into her ear, as she lay exhausted in the beautiful swan bed. When they returned to the underground shore, Erik realized just how tired she was. So she had fallen asleep with her secrets, her secrets about Christine. As she drifted off into peaceful slumber, he just watched her with such admiration, he wondered if he had ever felt so strongly about another person before. He gently traced her features with soft devotion. He would not tell her, and he hoped she would never ask, when and where he'd managed to acquire that engagement ring.

He could never tell her about how he left the Populaire that one evening. With so much hesitation in his heart, he adorned a long black cloak, which also shielded the ghastly mask, and ventured out into the shadows, into the alley ways, and nearly scared the poor young woman who stood behind the counter in that jewellery shop, but she followed orders without error, and was paid handsomely for her silence. Many a night he spent contemplating how to propose to Kristen. Ultimately it was fear which kept him from asking her to marry him, fear that she would say no. How relieved he was when she gave him the opportunity to do so in the gondola.

Now as she slept before him, only with his strongest willpower could he keep himself from weeping. It had become quite apparent to him many years ago that he would never know love, never could he have ever imagined being proven wrong... when he was never wrong about anything! He leaned over to her and gently kissed her brow. Kristen. The name would call his attention with more power than his own. How he hated to leave her alone to sleep, he wanted to crawl into the bed beside her and allow himself the pleasure of holding her, but whatever she'd been doing above the dungeons, it had taken most, if not all, of the energy away from her.

Reluctantly, he stood from her bedside, and walked out into the main realm. What could he do for her to make her more comfortable here? He'd done everything he thought he could... but still he did not feel that it was at all good enough. Nothing would be good enough for Kristen... _Good God_, he thought. He was never given a last name... throughout the time he spent with his mother... she had never told him his last name! How were they to be married if he had no name to give her?

He moved towards his organ, and sat before it's line of gorgeous ivory keys. If this was the biggest problem he faced concerning his wedding to Kristen, then he considered himself lucky... extremely lucky. But still... something must be done.

"Erik!" A distant voice travelled through the cavern until it met with Erik's alerted ears. What was this? he questioned as he walked down the stone steps towards the water. "Erik! You must open the gate!" The voice called, "It is urgent!"

As this mysterious presence advanced even closer, he realized it was Nadir, rowing towards him with extraordinary rapidity.

"Back so soon?" Erik enquired smugly, "I thought you hated it here." he forcefully pushed down the trigger which would allow the portcullis to rise.

"Don't fool yourself, friend, I still detest this loathsome... God have mercy Erik... what have you done to the place?" Nadir's eyes opened considerably as he viewed this new lair. "I cannot believe it" he said.

"Then don't" Erik shot back, obviously a bit annoyed at the Persian's return.

"Stop being so stubborn and listen to me!"

"What is it Nadir, make it quick, I don't have time for small talk."

"I was on my way out of... here... I heard them... in the alley way!" he seemed to be out of breath, as if he'd_swam_ through the murky waters, but obviously it was his nervousness which caused this panting.

"Them? who?" Erik demanded

"I cannot be sure completely... Erik, prepare yourself... this will not be easy for you to hear."

"Just say it" he hissed, growing increasingly annoyed at the Daroga's inability to express himself.

"I think it was Raoul!" he shouted, so quickly it was evident that he knew he was about to get the noose. Erik snorted as he watched the man lift his hand to his cheek. He honestly thought he was about to receive the simple strangle of his rope?

"You_best_ be sure of your words." Erik walked as close to Nadir as he could get before falling into the waters, "You are certain it was Raoul... Raoul de Chagny?"

"Listen to me, that is not all. I heard him speaking. He is planning to hire the navy on you Erik, he wants you dead."

How could this have been happening? Raoul? Back in Paris? Then... as if struck by a bold of lightning, it hit him. Christine. Raoul would go nowhere without... Christine. Suddenly it became a challenge just to stand straight, and things were becoming increasingly blurred. She could not be back... she just could not be...

"Erik? Erik wake up!" He heard the voice of his lovely bride to be, and as he opened his eyes, he could barely see her hovering over him, with her hand to his forehead. "What happened to him Nadir?" She asked the Persian, as her fiancee came almost into consciousness, but once more drifted away. The moment he had waken her from her sleep, she ran to Erik's side, removing that god awful mask, and yelling at Nadir when he turned from the sight. "Tell me now! What was it that you did, or said, to make him so delirious?" She gently placed a cold cloth to Erik's brow, and remained with him, her eyes not leaving him for a second. Constantly she watched his chest, to make sure his breath would not cease to be.

"I told him what I must now tell you," Nadir said. "Raoul de Chagny has returned to Paris. He is here! I heard him in the alley near the Rue Scribe, talking to men about hiring the navy! He wants to kill Erik. Kristen, if I were you, I would get him far away from here! You cannot stay."

"Raoul is planning to destroy... Oh Erik, you must wake up! You must!" Kristen shook at him fiercely, trying desperately with all her power to draw from him a reassuring stir. She did not succeed. "Oh dear God" she whispered to herself. He must have put together the pieces the very instant Nadir mentioned that wretched de Chagny. He would, no doubt, with his genius mind, have figured out that Christine was back as well. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes as she watched him, in this senseless condition. The very thought of that woman's return made him pass out? Suddenly she became very glad that it was not she who told him.

"We cannot just leave!" She told Nadir, "This place is our home... and it is his home most of all. He has spent too many years here to just be able to pick up and leave without being affected in some unimaginable way. No! We will not go... I have grown too fond of this place to abandon it now, because some weak little man wants to run us down! Let them come..." Kristen stood slowly from the now carpeted floor, and looked towards the tapestries which covered Erik's secret room, "You will help me Nadir," she said. "You will help me make sure they do not get here alive."

All colour vanished from Nadir's olive skin as he heard the evil, ghostly tone in this woman's voice. GREAT, he thought, _She was the perfect match for the Phantom, another psychotic lunatic _"You are mad!" The man told her, "If you think I will help you assemble any form of..."

"You will help me... or you will be sorry!"

"No! No! I don't think so!" Nadir, with a very shaken voice, made a run for the mirror passage, but just as he thought he would be escaping so easily, it flung open, and bashed him square in the face. It was a miracle that the glass didn't shatter, and he felt as if he would pass out from this unintentional blow.

Meg... innocent little Meg stumbled through the door and onto the Persian carpeting. "Oh My Goodness!" She yelped, kneeling down to the man who had fallen upon her entrance, "Oh... forgive me! forgive me!" She helped him to his feet, though he staggered a bit before regaining balance.

"You women are crazy!" he held his head with a pressure that could only signify pain. Kristen ignored his immature statement, and continued her pursuit of Erik's consciousness.

"What has happened?" Meg asked, carefully moving towards her friend, and kneeling beside her, and before Erik.

"He knows" She replied softly. "He knows that Christine has returned... Nadir heard Raoul in the alley way, he came back andtold him everything... just look at how she affects him. Oh Meg, what if they meet again someday, what happens if he still loves her?"

"He won't" Meg tried, "He won't, because he loves you now."

"But I'm not her" Kristen painfully withheld her sobs, just torturing her throat in the effort. Meg sought to comfort her by wrapping her arms around her in a friendly gesture,

"Kristen, she's married. He knows that. He also knows that he has_you_ now." Kristen closed her eyes, and allowed those familiar drops of sorrow to creep down her rosy cheeks.

"I cannot live without him Meg" she whispered, "I would rather die now if I knew he would go back to her."

"But he won't go back to her!" Meg repeated.

Nadir watched this scene play out before his unbelieving eyes. It was almost unreal, such a beautiful woman crying over such a loathsomely ugly man... he turned his head away. If his wife had been so scarred... before her death, that is... he still would have loved her. Still, he could not relate to this situation, not only was Erik disfigured... but he was a dangerous man. She was brave, he thought. She was so brave.

"Kristen." There was a soft whisper, which came from neither one of the girls, and Nadir was sure he had not uttered that noise.

"Erik?" Kristen parted from the young ballerina to tend to her _one and only_. "Erik, please wake up, Erik, please? ... I love you." She thought those last words were the only ones appropriate. As he began to rouse, she could feel her heart rate skyrocket. What was to happen now?

"Kristen," He whispered once more, his eyes slowly began to open. Meg looked down at him with an uncontrollable pity. She could not believe it herself that the fear she felt towards him, and especially towards his unmasked visage, was dwindling.

Kristen leaned down to him and kissed his brow, "Everything will be ok" She told him... but truly, did she even believe that herself?

"Where is my mask?" he whispered to her.

"I've removed it from you. You should not wear it any longer, especially when you are sick."

"I am not... sick." He looked up at her, then realized it wasn't only Kristen who gaped down at him, but Meg as well. His eyes closed. Perfect... once more he was a spectacle for all to look at! "Where is that man, I will kill him!" he threatened emptily. Kristen felt herself begin to giggle,

"He's standing over there..." She said, pointing. He slowly rose from his horizontal situation, and turned his head to see Nadir, standing in the shadows by the mirror passage.

"Did he tell you..."

"Yes," Kristen interrupted, "He told me everything." Her intonation grew exceedingly mournful with every word she conveyed. This would either be the makings of disaster, or trust. He looked into her eyes with worry. He knew what she was thinking, and he could not bare it. She found herself unable to return his stare, her glance averted towards the lake, and instantly he realized just how severe this could be. She remained on her knees by him until he finally stood, and helped her to her feet. Looking down at her while she looked up at him, he knew what she was feeling. He knew the feeling of that deathly suspicion, that his whole world was about to come crashing down, consuming him until demise. To watch her go through that was unendurable.

She looked down at her lovely engagement ring. Meg gasped quietly. He had proposed? She thought. Why hadn't she noticed_that_ before? She held her hand up into view, as gentle tears rolled down her lovely features, "You don't want this back... do you?" She asked, hardly capable of governing her whimpers. Erik frowned at her, and took her left hand,

"You must be out of your mind..." he murmured to her lovingly, and gently kissed her hand. Meg turned from the two... as if she were a child, tortured by the sight of parents and their show of affection, or perhaps it was growing harder for her to watch this at all. He was the Phantom, but even so, Kristen was the luckiest woman Meg had ever known. She began to even question what in the bleeding hell Christine had been thinking when she chose Raoul over Erik.

Erik warmly embraced Kristen, and gently rocked her in his arms. "I don't want it back," he whispered to her, completely oblivious to the presence of Meg, and the Persian.

"What are we going to do Erik? Raoul is coming for you... for us! If they take you, they're taking me as well."

"They won't succeed, understand? They will never outsmart me, never."

Meg moved passed the two, and approached Nadir, "Did you hear which way Raoul went, after their conversation was over?"

Nadir looked down at the lovely young ballerina, and replied, "He moved towards the street. Why?" He asked.

"Because Christine and I searched this theatre inside out, time and time again, and still, we were unable to find him." She sighed. "I should leave. I've left Christine up there all alone, God only knows what will pass if she meets up with Raoul and he reveals to her the things he is planning." Without another moment wasted, she crossed through he mirror passage, and shut the glass behind her. Nadir starred at his reflection as the door shut, was that not the daughter of Madame Giry?

...(scene shift)...

"Christine?" Meg moved silently through the hallway, whispering the name of her now lost friend. "Christine? I thought I told you to stay put!" she whispered once more. She could not have gone far, Meg reflected, as she hurried through the passages. She was so very relieved to find Christine, sitting curled up on the bed in the room she shared with Raoul, but of course, Raoul was no where to be found.

"Christine?"

"Oh Meg! Did you find him? Please tell me you've found him!"

Meg sighed, "No, dear, but I have some rather disturbing news concerning him."

Christine's wide eyes filled with instant tears, and she ran up to her young confidant, "Oh my God Meg, is he dead? has he died? Oh please tell me that nothing has happened to him." She basically clawed at the young girl's gown, to the point where Meg had to pry her off.

"No, for goodness sake he is not dead! But he is concocting the most horrendous plan."

She sighed, calming down a bit, and slowly began,"Oh no..." The former diva stated, "He isn't going once more to pursue the Phantom, is he?"

Meg sombrely nodded, "He's getting the navy, just like the night of Don Juan, he's hiring his military connections."

Christine seemed to turn to ice at this disgusting news. "How could he..." She puled, "How dare he? After all this time? We have been here long enough for Erik to create trouble amongst us, but he has not laid a hand on Raoul or me. Why must he be doing this?"

"Erik didn't know you were here, until moments ago. Christine, if I were you, I would stay far away from both Erik and Kristen. I don't mean to be rude by saying this, but they truly love each other... you could ruin that."

"I would not think of denying him happiness..." Christine whispered, tears rolling down her eyes.

Meg frowned, "Well, that's not entirely true, is it?"

Christine's eyes burned as she glared at Meg, "You think I so readily left him down there? You think it did not kill me to leave him all alone? At the mercy of a chasing crowd? I agreed to stay with him! I almost wanted to..." she covered her eyes, trying to dry her tears, but it seemed she would only succeed at making it worse, "He let us go... I had to leave, Raoul was still tied to that God awful gate, I didn't know what to do, he gave me no time to think."

Meg was astonished. "You're not going near him!" she argued.

"Of course I will not." She said quietly, "My place is not with him... my place is with Raoul... if he does not bloody well get himself killed before dawn, that is." Her voice was the very pitch of agony.

"Christine, you must vow that you will do nothing to sway Erik. It is not only him that you will ruin, but it will devastate Kristen as well. You should have seen her. When Erik came to know of your return... he faded into unconsciousness. She cried, Christine. She cried because she thought that he would want you still, and would abandon her. She told me she would rather die than live without him."

Christine starred at Meg as she spoke, and Meg was unable to understand why the countess began to smile, until she said, "She loves him that much?"

Meg nodded.

"Oh, this means so much to me," The young lady said,

"And they're getting married too!" Meg added. Christine's smiled the brightened, her eyes suddenly void of all harsh tears.

But her smile soon faded, "He cannot do this! He cannot ruin this for them... Raoul... that bastard! I must stop him!" Christine slowly stood from the bed, and beckoned Meg to follow her, "We will search until we find him!"

"Are you sure you are willing to go against your husband? Such a scandal could make the paper you know, amongst gentry such as yourself..."

"Do you think I care Meg? Erik did me the greatest favour in allowing me to go free... I cannot turn my back on him just as he has found the one thing he has had to live without through his whole life!"

"Scandal is not all that could happen." Meg further added.

Christine sighed, "If Raoul divorces me over this... which I doubt will happen, then I know Madame Giry will permit me to live here again. I have a place to go... I am not afraid."

With that, the two girls left the bedroom. They walked like lightning to the main hall, where to their horrid dismay, they were confronted with the very man they searched for, and three hundred armed soldiers of the French Navy.


	27. Life and Death

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing... wow, some of you sounded threatening... lasso's and all (eek) ok, ok, so I got you another chapter... I'll have you know that I withdrew from precious essay writing time to give this to you... grrr, lol, I think it was worth it. I hope you like it. PLEASE REVIEW! I really really wanna know who is reading this stuff, I'm so thankful already though, for my loyal reviews, L2C, Darklady, Apoloslyre. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please and Thankyou, lol.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of the characters in it, (I wish I owned Gerard Butler)**

Thunder roared outside the Populaire. The dark blue light of morning pierced through the stained glass windows of the rotunda. A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, and flashed through Raoul's angered eyes, it was a scene from hell. Christine's heart sank in her chest as she watched the armed men, in their uniforms, crowding through the front doors.

"Raoul," She spoke out, only to find her voice unable to project anything more than a whisper.

"Christine, go back to your room." he said calmly, as if he were dealing with a child in the midst of a tantrum. Meg was startled by this. The man didn't look to be himself. He looked mad. But she didn't retreat to her room, she couldn't. The fragile young lady cautiously approached her husband, very much aware of the soldiers who stood behind him, ready to move at his command.

"Raoul, why are you doing this? Why? It is over, it's all over."

"Christine, so help me God if you fail to follow orders I will lock you in that room."

Meg couldn't believe it. This was the man Christine abandoned Erik for? But... he was never like this before. He seemed thoroughly obsessed, and dangerous now. "Christine, come with me... don't..." Meg tried, but in vain.

"Raoul! Why? Why are you being so cruel?" The poor countess didn't know what to do. She put forth her arms in preparation to embrace him, but he grabbed her wrist, and shoved her to one of his lead men.

"Charles," Raoul said, "Take her to the suite... lock the door." His voice was of stillness. Christine let out a shriek as the man began to pull her along towards the archway, and into the shadows of the passage, which would lead to the intended room.

Meg stormed up to Raoul and slapped him clean across the face, "You MONSTER!" she yelled, only to be thrown aside as de Chagny ordered the men to search the building... to burn it down if they could not locate the Phantom. Meg was trampled on several times as the men marched forward, left in a heap in the corner, now marred with several bruises, on her face, abdomen, and arms as well. She could hear the echoes of their feet, leaving behind mud and filth on the expensive French carpeting.

She struggled to stand, as pain coursed through her body. She couldn't be thankful enough that nothing was broken. The wind had been knocked out of her various times, and as she fought to breathe properly, she limped towards the passage. Christine's cries could be heard as she was forced through the halls, and then, let out one final scream as the door was slammed shut, and the lock was turned. Meg hid in the shadows of a doorway as the man snickered, walking away, shoving the keys into his pocket as he moved his fat ass down the corridor.

She quietly made her way towards Christine's confinement. To her disbelief, the door would not open, not even from the outside. She could hear her sobbing, crying, on the other side.

"Christine" Meg whispered, finding herself coughing afterwards. Those men were quite unfriendly towards the young ballerina.

"Meg?" The frightened young lady begged, from the darkness of her prison "Meg, listen to me, get out of here! Go down to them and warn them! You must."

"But what about you, Christine?"

"WHO CARES ABOUT ME MEG! I AM USELESS LOCKED IN HERE, NOW GO!" She hollered through her sobs. She was diseased with anguish, and frightened as well.

Meg nodded, and ran towards the chapel. Her right leg was killing her, her arms hurt every time she moved them... it would be well worth the pain if she could save Erik's life, and Kristen's too. She didn't know how lucky she was when she came across the chapel, and found it deserted. If the men hadn't figured this out, then they were more stupid than they looked. She snaked her way through the secret door, and painfully descended into the shadows.

Not a sound was heard, as she carefully took the stairs, step by step, soundlessly. Her breath was uneven, but it wasn't ever day she was trotted on by a stampede of idiot sailors. Her strength was fleeting fast, as she made her way through that last corridor, towards the mirror passage. She could hear their voices as she approached the two way mirror, they were still alive, she sighed in relief, and there was no alarm anywhere.

"Kristen, Erik..." Meg choked as she stumbled through the doorway, nearly falling to her knees in her weakness.

Kristen ran to her side immediately, "Dear God, Meg, what has happened to you?" She was alarmed at Meg's state, bruises everywhere, her golden hair a mess, who would have the gall?

Meg looked up at them all, at Erik, Kristen, and Nadir, and she began to cry pitifully. Kristen hugged her warmly, and stroked her hair, "You must tell me what has happened to you. Who did this to you?"

"They're here, Kristen." Meg said, "They're here. Raoul, he's led them into the theatre. He's locked Christine in their bedroom..."

"But who did this to you?"

"They did," She answered, "I was pushed aside, I've never seen Raoul like this. He's never looked so... mean. He threw me to the floor, they... it doesn't matter Kristen, you must get yourself, and Erik, out of this theatre! They will burn it down if they cannot find you!"

Kristen turned her head and looked up at Erik, as he stood with the slightest hint of concern in his eyes, "Perhaps she is right," She said, "Maybe we should flee, if only for a little while."

"To where?" Erik asked her. She was instantly puzzled. He was asking_her_ questions?

"The lady has a point Erik, it would be foolish to remain here in such danger" Nadir voiced. Kristen let go of the petrified dancer, who, in her weakness, fell to her knees.

Kristen gasped in worry, watching Meg in her near swooning condition. Erik was equally as concerned, moving towards the young ballerina and lifting her from the ground. He carried her into Kristen's chamber, and laid her onto the swan bed, "She is in serious injury," he said, watching her as she moved her head to the side, towards the blackness of the ill lit room.

"Leave... Get out of here Kristen, be happy, go...," The girl's whispers began to fade. Kristen clutched her stomach with both arms, _Poor Meg_, she thought, nearly in tears. Who could do such a thing to the most innocent of girls in the opera house? The kindest as well.

"We cannot leave her" Kristen murmured woefully, a hand at her mouth, and tears brimming her lids. Erik turned to his bride to be, and kissed her brow,

"But she is right, Kristen, we cannot stay."

"We cannot just leave her here!" She repeated, "They will come! and they will ransack the dungeons here once again. What will happen when they find her? here, alone? You know what will happen Erik, they will..." She began to choke on her words, fighting to remain collected.

Erik sighed, "Then you will have them come here and find me?" He asked.

"You're the Phantom! Can you not trick them? Can you not trap them?"

"Do you know what you are asking?"

"Yes!" She hollered, "Kill them if you have to God Damn it just don't let them destroy us!" She was reduced to tears, quiet tears, as her echoes faded into the distance.

"There is no time" Erik said, in a tone of deathly finality. "I cannot rebuild the tortures with those men searching the building."

Kristen turned her head from him, and walked over to Meg, sitting beside her on the bed. She was burning up, the bruises on her face and arms growing worse by the minute.

"Kristen," She let out in a horse whisper.

"Shhh, don't try to talk, Meg, you've been through far too much. What are we going to do Erik?" She asked.

"Take her away. There is a carriage in the alley way at the Rue Scribe, you can escape." he said to Erik.

Both Kristen and Erik looked at Nadir as if he were mad.

"I will watch over the girl."

Erik took Kristen's hand and guided her from the bed, towards the room's exit, "Be careful, friend." He said to the Persian.

Before they could pass through the curtains, the faintest click was heard from the other side, and all was silent thereafter. Both Erik, and Kristen, stood frozen behind the tapestry. What had been that noise? the mechanics of an army rifle no doubt.

"Come out, or I will shoot you all dead."

...(Scene Shift)...

Christine pounded helplessly from behind the door. The early morning sky did little to light the room, and the darkness was beginning to frighten her. Oh how she wished they would have put her back in her old room... at least there was an escape through there! But this room was cold, unfriendly, and dark. She couldn't believe Raoul... her Raoul, would treat her like a piece of property. She trusted him with her life, how stupid she had been. A man shows up from her childhood and she falls instantly in love? How stupid she had been. She didn't know him, truly, she knew a kid, but people change.

"HELP" She cried piteously, but in vain. She slid to the floor, with her back against the door. Everything she knew was lost, she felt dead, having no path to follow, no one to turn to. It was like watching the last sunset she knew she'd ever see, her life was over. Her beautiful world, destroyed.

She must have been crying for at least an hour before she was rescued. Madame Giry found the poor girl, exhausted from her weeping, her beautiful face just plagued with tears. She took her into her arms, like a mother she never had,

"I'm so sorry Christine," Antoinette said gently to her, "This should not have happened."

"He's going to... kill him,"

Madame Giry's eyes grew fearing, "I know, Christine, we cannot stop them, they are too powerful for us to overpower."

"He cannot kill Erik," Christine said softly, the affect of her crying had been overwhelming fatigue.

"He will be lucky if Erik does not kill _him_..." Giry mused,

"We must find him. We must find Roaul and stop him."

"You will get yourself killed if you partake in such foolishness!" Antoinette warned.

Christine's face grew unusually emotionless as she starred the ballet mistress dead in the eye, "I am as good as dead already."

...(scene shift)...

"Where is my mother?" Meg whispered, in delirious illusion. Her fever playing terrible tricks on her mind. She constantly fell in and out of nightmare, her senses wracked with horrors and fright.

"I don't know," said Nadir, "She is safe, don't worry."

Within the darkness of the bedroom, Nadir could only faintly distinguish the voices coming from the outer lair.

"We've done nothing to you" Kristen said, confronted with the threatening end of the army rifle, as she stood, her back against the cold stone wall, her hands painfully bound behind her.

"The hell you haven't," Raoul said.

"Don't point the gun at her for pity's sake, it is_me_ you want, not her" Erik hissed bitterly. With the help of his three lead men, he had the Phantom _Chained_ to the portcullis, the way Raoul had fantasized seeing him since that grievous night. Kristen wanted to cry, but she did not. She would not give this disgusting man the satisfaction.

"How_did_ you become so twisted?" Raoul asked of Kristen, referring to her face, and the burn scars. She nearly spat at him, this cruel hearted monster... at the same time she wanted to vomit, this whole thing was making her sick. Why would he want to ruin them? She glared at him with fire, refusing to answer.

"No doubt the beast down there did this to you,"

"It was an accident," She growled darkly.

"Defending the monster? I wouldn't expect his latest prisoner to be so kind, but then again, he did have Christine kissing him by the end of the night."

Kristen bowed her head, she had to... if she continued to look at the man, she knew she would further put her life in danger. She knew she would not be able to control her growing anger, and that her actions would put her life in jeopardy, and then she also had another issue to worry about.

Erik watched his beautiful fiancé look to the floor. Of course he would not understand her reason behind that gesture... he felt horrible. How could this man come here, and use his own wife as a means of bringing someone down.

"I've dreamed of this moment since I took... _Christine_... away from here. Do you know what it is like... to have someone take the one you love away from you?"

Kristen immediately brought her eyes back to meet his, "Yes" She bitterly declared.

"I seriously doubt that." Raoul said, then turned to the Phantom. "You deserve to die." He said. "What you did to Christine that night is unforgivable. I swore to God you would pay with your life, and you will."

Erik couldn't believe he'd allowed the men to chain him to the gate. If they hadn't been armed, they'd be dead. But he would not put up a fight... not with Kristen in harm's way. As Raoul shot his mouth off, Erik explored his chains, trying to find a weakness, any weakness, that would allow him to break free. There were none, they were strong, and new.

"I should kill you now. You will continue to haunt my wife and I until we're dead... I cannot allow that."He pointed his gun, and prepared to shoot.

"NO!" Kristen cried, the echo of her blood curdling scream lingering in the lair for nearly half a minute. She fought with her binds, but the more she struggled, the more they cut into her wrists, blood trickling from her skin, onto her clothing.

Raoul turned, and stared at the woman in confusion, "You should be happy... I'm doing you a favour"

"By murdering the father of my unborn child?" She shrieked. Raoul nearly dropped his gun. Erik stared up at her in wonder, and she looked towards him, working up enough courage to slightly smile at him.

Raoul looked stupidly from Erik to Kristen, dumfounded. "Not only do you will this blasphemy to live? But you allow it to spread it's curse as well?"

"The only one, who is a curse upon this world, is you Raoul de Chagny. From what everyone says of you... you are_so_ kind at heart, so generous... do you pay people to lie for you? Or is this madness new?"

"You will not speak, wench" He said, "You don't know what you speak of."

"How does Christine put up with you?" She sneered.

"ENOUGH!" Raoul hollered, pointing the gun to Kristen's face. She was now too worried to move. She starred at the gun, it was all she could do.

Erik's heart raced painfully within his chest. He dared not make a sound, he would not give Raoul the credit of thinking he could responsibly handle a weapon enough not to shoot it in the event of an unexpected noise.

"Please don't, Raoul. I'm with child, a child... and I adore your wife, Raoul, I would never cause her harm. I am to be married to Erik, he loves me... he no longer pursues your wife Raoul, please... you know what it is like to have the one you love taken from you... do not become the monster in this, please... if you kill me, you are killing new life as well, have mercy. I know that what the Phantom did was wrong, but what you are doing is wrong too, the both of you have given into your madness..." She said all of this with the gun pointed at her face... her bleeding hands were trembling from behind her, and she was shaking.

"Do not kill her," Erik said.

"No... Perhaps I should not kill the lady." Raoul then turned, "But you have yet to prove to me that_you_ will not pose threat in the future!" He prepared the gun to fire, and walked to the edge of the shore, "You should have been killed at birth, you monster" He insulted bitterly, and prepared to shoot. Kristen jumped at the sound of the gunshot, her eyes squinted shut, and her heart seemed to stop dead within her breast.

"ERIK!" she yelled, from the darkness of her closed eyes. She would not open them... she could not. If she didn't look, it wouldn't be there, it would all be make believe. She heard metal strike against the Persian carpeting, and then another item fell to the floor. As she slowly allowed her lids to part, she realized that it was not Erik who suffered the wound, but it was Raoul, who now lay in a dead heap on the floor.

Madame Giry stood by the opened mirror passage. The three men who had been with Raoul down there fled from the scene almost instantly. Antoinette allowed them to escape through the passage... like they would be able to find their way to the surface anyway! Kristen looked towards the ballet mistress in awe, but then in sadness, as she realized that young Christine Daae stood trembling beside her. She didn't speak, nor make a move, she just watched the body of her husband, lying there dead.

Kristen began to cry. She thought he had killed Erik. Those ten seconds of doom ticked by slower than hours. Madame Giry put her pistol down upon the organ, and walked to Kristen. She carefully untied her bonds, revealing her damaged wrists. "He cannot harm you any longer," She told her. Kristen approached Raoul's limp body, and stole from him the keys to Erik's chains.

"What are you doing?" Christine whispered softly, so confused, and frightened, but when she saw that she was going for the keys, her curiosity was laid to rest. Kristen treaded through the freezing waters, and walked towards Erik,

"I love you" She whispered to him, as she removed his chains. When he was released, the two of them held each other in a desperate embrace, no moment, had ever seemed as important to either one of them, as this one.


	28. The AfterMath

**A/N: Dear Readers, I am very sorry that I have delayed Writing, five tests and three essays have prevented me from updating. Please read and review, and thank you to all who have reviewed in the past.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters, (Once again, I wish I owned Gerard Butler, you're all getting sick of reading me write that statement, i know, lol)**

Tears fell from Christine's eyes every second of the way. Raoul's body had been so much heavier than it looked. Carrying him five storeys to the surface was no easy task, physically and emotionally, she was scarred far worse than ever before.

Blood dripped from his wound, leaving a horrid trail of evidence as they slowly moved to ground level. Madame Giry was aware of Christine's tears, but she knew deep down that somewhere within Christine's poor confused thoughts, she was somehow relieved.

Over and over in her mind, Christine could see Raoul's death, she could hear the shot repeated time and time again, as if she were enduring some form of punishment. The demons of hell must have been dancing around their fire as they laughed their wicked laugh, mocking this tragedy. She knew she was damned to the depths of flame.

"It will all be over soon" Madame Giry softly assured, but Christine could scarcely believe her. It would all be over yes, but would she ever live this down? Suddenly a wave of bitter agony washed over her like an ocean of burden. This would never be over... never.

The storm that had once ripped through the city of Paris had subsided, and all was now quiet. The morning sky, and the light, was as unfeeling as Erik had once described it. It was only when Antoinette could fully see Christine that she noticed the emptiness which consumed the girl's eyes. She looked soulless, almost vacant. No doubt... the poor thing, this should not have happened, but Kristen did not deserve to die! and neither did Erik. Raoul had turned into a heartless monster of a man, he of all people deserved to be put out of everyone else's misery.

"What am I going to do?" Christine whispered. They laid his body to the floor. As Christine gazed down at her reddened hands, her eyes betrayed an insanity beyond Madame Giry's comprehension. "What am I going to do?" She repeated, this time in a state of pure panic.

Madame Giry pulled the poor girl to her and held her closely, "Now listen to me Christine, everything will be fine... do you hear me? You can live here still, you are not out in the cold, you are not alone. You have me... you have Meg, you have Kristen, and believe it or not Christine, you have Erik too. Everything... will be ok"

Christine looked up into Madame Giry's eyes. "But you killed him." She whispered inaudibly.

Giry's eyes lit up in a worried fire, "Hold you tongue dear, no one shall know. It was another man's rifle which took the life from this man, that is the story, the _only_ story!"

It took a lot of courage on Christine's part to nod in agreement.

When the ambulance coach finally arrived, the sun was in a higher position in the sky, casting an unwanted ray of light through the stained glass window of the rotunda, and onto Raoul's lifeless body. Christine had been reduced to a shaking ball of fear and sorrow in the corner as they carried him away. There were no reporters, no investigators, just the coach, and the mortician.

They carried his body away with more speed than would have been necessary. When the doors were shut, Madame Giry turned to Christine, who sat in that same corner,

"Let it all be forgotten." She said, as she helped Christine from the protection of the shadows.

...(Scene Shift)...

"I cannot believe he is dead." Kristen whispered, as she lay within Erik's arms, beneath the covers of their beautiful swan bed, skin against skin, consumed by warmth. How long this had lasted, she couldn't possibly tell, all she knew was that she could never let go of this moment. She needed his love, for the fear which had been planted within her heart upon almost losing him, and seeing a man die in her own home, was perhaps too much for her to handle alone.

The lair was empty, save for the two of them. Christine and Antoinette had made off with the body, and Nadir had carried Meg to the safety of her own bedroom, away from the horrors and fright of the dungeons.

"I cannot believe it was Madame Giry who killed him." he replied, holding her closely, his eyes shut.

"When will the madness end, Erik?" she asked, "When will everything be normal again? When will the nightmare die?" She placed her palm against his malformed features, and kissed him softly, "Please tell me it will be over soon."

"Kristen, I think that our demons were killed this night." he told her, as he looked down at her looking up at him. "Nothing has ruined us so far... we've made it through every horrid obstacle that this miserable world has bestowed upon us. It _is _over."

She sat up beside him, bringing the sheets with her, covering her front. "I never want to see the surface again..." She said, "I wish I could just stay here forever, and ever."

He watched her peculiarly. Surely she could not mean what she was saying... this was simply the result of the traumatic events which had occurred. "Anything you want." He told her, even though he knew she would eventually come around, he could not bare to discourage her from her strange wishes now... not when she was so full of unpleasant emotion.

Her knees came to her chest, and she pulled the covers over her more, "What shall we name our child, Erik?" She then asked, desiring immensely to stray from the subject.

"It depends on the gender of our baby." he replied lovingly, kissing her cheek. Ever since Kristen had noticed that she was pregnant... since the ceasing of her monthly cycle, and the spells of morning sickness, she had pondered many things about the child she found herself carrying. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would he or she be blessed with the same kind of genius in which Erik was born with... Would he or she be born with other similar features? It was only inevitable that she would wonder whether her child would be born with Erik's disfigurement, and she nearly cursed herself for smiling. Of course anything that reminded her of Erik would send chills through her body... and not the kind of chills which one would detest.

She could not understand how any mother could disregard her child, no matter what kind of problems he or she was born with. As she sat beside him in the bed, with the fantasy of cradling her child, perfect or not, in her arms, she smiled and kissed him once more. "If it's a girl?" she asked.

"Kristen, I think you should name our child." he told her,

"But Erik!..." She paused for a short while, "Our child should bare a name purely unique. I cannot think of such a name... I know _you_ can."

He sighed slowly... there she was again, his stubborn beloved.

"You shall have to give me time," he said,

"I cannot wait until we are a family" she said, leaning her head against his shoulder, caressing his upper arm, "All of the love we will share."

Now he was plagued with silence. However soon the question had entered Kristen's mind, one could bet their life that he had already pondered it before the pregnancy was announced. The word _love_ often brought on a different feeling within his heart when it was spoken of in definition. _Hate_ was what he felt when he heard that term, after all it was the very emotion which caused him so much pain as a child and throughout his adulthood. Kristen would tell him that she loved him though, that was certainly not the same. Those words brought him so much joy, and he felt great happiness in saying them to her as well... but what about the child? the child..._his_ child...

"Kristen," He hesitantly began, "I don't want to bring darkness back into our words..."

She listened with sudden concern. His tone had gone from loving to troubled, she could not bare not knowing what was causing him such inner conflict.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hoping he would respond with haste.

"You will love our child, no matter what, right?" he asked her. Her eyes filled with such hurt that he regretted even saying the words.

"Of course I will love our child," She told him, "How can you ask me that?"

"My mother did not love me, I just wanted to know."

She was quiet from there on. Of course he would need to know, she felt stupid for almost accusing him of taking her for some sort of heartless wench.

He could feel her breath warming his skin as she brushed her lips against his. She pulled him down to her, and now lying beneath him, she kissed him deeply, passionately, with unimaginable love and desire. Instantly he knew her intentions.

"I need you Erik," She murmured between their kissing. He did not deny her. She truly need him, more than he knew, and more than she knew, he needed her as well. What they had just been through that night was possibly the worst experience she'd ever endured, and the experience in which he loathed the most.

Their love making had never been so explosive, so strong. Never had she cried out like that, and never had he felt such dynamic relief. The two of them together so closely, moving with such passion, their hearts racing at the most amazing speeds. They both collapsed into each other upon climactic release, breathing so heavily and holding each other as close as they'd been.

Had a man died down there that night? Had Christine even existed? she could hardly remember any of it with her mind and soul so elevated. No matter how bad things got, being with him could erase her fears completely. Satiation consumed her once more. She cursed time, just as it brought such pleasure, it also allowed these moments to pass by, in lamentable ending.

...(scene shift)...

She wasn't exactly light, but she was by no means a burden to carry. The lovely young lady had been once more consumed by her fever, she could not stay in the cold of the lair, she needed warmth. Nadir carried Meg's sleeping form from the dungeons to the dormitories, and once reaching her room, he laid her to rest within the warmth of her bed. Constantly he watched over her, keeping her fever down with the application of a cold cloth to her brow.

One thing he noticed, and became very curious about, was the mumbling she emitted during her deeper sleep. He could hardly understand a word she projected, but whatever she was seeing in her mind was certainly displeasing, no doubt the effects of her illness. The poor dancer. Countless times he's watched her, on occasion admired her, she was so fair, so lovely. That was back when he was under the control of the Phantom himself. While every other girl screamed her bloody head off, Meg seemed to possess a higher level of nerve. Of course this was because she knew her mother was acquainted with the _opera ghost_, but he respected her bravery nonetheless.

No light could wake her. Nadir made sure to close the curtains of the windows. She needed to rest... he couldn't understand why he felt such need to see her well... of course! She was Madame Gity's daughter... he owed her a lifetime of debt, she had done such favour to both him and Erik. He would never forgive himself if he allowed an ill fate to befall dear Meg Giry. But somehow, in truth he knew it was the girl herself which forced him to care for her, and for this he loathed himself.

Madame Giry would never approve of this, it could never happen.

He removed the cloth as the young lady began to stir,

"Mother? Kristen?" She mumbled beneath her breath as she ascended from slumber.

"Shhh, no dear, they are not here."

"You..." She muttered in realization, barely opening her eyes, "Where am I?"

"In your bedroom. Don't worry, everything will be better now."

She tried to move, her effort was evident, but her pain was also apparent. Her injuries were not severe, but she would need to recover. Those soldiers had been less than gentlemen towards her.

"Don't move..." he told her, "You need your rest." He gently replaced the cloth to her forehead. Oh what misery, she thought.

The mild anguish on her face caught him off guard, "Am I hurting you?" he asked her. She could have told him yes, in fact she almost wanted to. Where was her mother in this cruelty? She would rather have had her mother's cold hands heal her damage than be treated by this false hope.

"N... no" She replied, "But I am already in pain." Her voice was so soft, he wondered why she didn't sing as well as dance, he could hear it in her voice that she could very well be a singer, but never having been given the chance to sing would definitely hinder her chances of discovery. If only he could know the true meaning of those words.

Where was Kristen now? She wondered to herself. Probably basking in the love of her husband to be. Sure, she'd been harassed by sickness and nightmares, but between wake and sleep, she'd managed to heed the news of Kristen's pregnancy... it was quite unlike her to feel jealousy towards a close friend, but it was also unlike her to be the one to be envied. No one wants to be Meg, she thought to herself, Meg just wants to be everyone else.

"I know," he offered, "You will be better soon."

She turned her head from him then. Who was he kidding? Certainly not her. She almost wished that this illness had taken her soul as well as her energy. Upon this he frowned,

"What is bothering you. Surely you are strong enough to battle this fever without allowing it to completely take over your spirit."

The audacity of this man! She sat up, though slowly, whimpering, but still, she sat up. "Why are you here?" She demanded, keeping her eyes away from his, not able to look towards him. It was so ironic that she spoke so harshly towards her care giver, she didn't want to, but she had to. Never before had a man cared for her, her heart was new to emotion, she knew how quickly she would fall if she let go, especially after these past few weeks of ill judgement and sadness.

"Forgive me... but, I could not abandon you. You are sick, and everyone else is occupied."

"What happened?... down there I mean" she then asked, calming somewhat.

"Everyone is fine... except, Raoul de Chagny was killed."

"WHAT!" She shrieked in horror. "Oh, Christine! She will be positively mad with sorrow. Oh! You must take me to her"

"No" he said, "You cannot get out of bed in your condition. You are far too injured."

"Would you stop!" She yelled, perhaps louder than she'd intended. "She will be alone! She will be all alone! Her husband is dead, and you want me to just... stay here? Do you know what it's like to... be alone?" She asked him, "To be frightened? Scared? Hopeless?" her voice raised to the point where she could not longer bare to even hear her own words. She surrendered into her sorrow, allowing her tears to fall, and letting her sobs be heard.

Nadir watched the girl in silence. He'd never before wanted so much to take the burden of someone else's sadness.

"You aren't speaking of Christine, are you..." he said softly, taking her hair from her face and placing it delicately behind her ears.

To feel his hand against her face merely brought about more tears from her crying eyes, this would never be for real.

However much she wanted to lie, dishonesty would prove useless in her case. She shook her head, and admitted, "No longer..." was her response, a response of more truth than he could possibly fathom.

"Surely you are not so lonely. I see you surrounded by so many who love you."

"Foolish man, I have their love, so it is not their love that I cry over."

He slightly smiled. Her insult had been so innocent it was adorable. "You speak as though you were the Phantom yourself" he said, he of all would know. Why would _she_, so beautiful and kind, be lonely? But then again, how could a man whose genius could lour an opera diva like Christine Daae willingly into darkness be denied love?

"Oh, but Erik has Kristen..." she said, drying her tears, "Christine had Raoul. I remember the day he came to the Opera. Not a month later she was gone... I was always the spectator, I suppose I was born to watch others shine. But at least Erik lives here... he can't take Kristen away from me like Raoul took away Christine."

"Listen to me Meg, you're speaking of absurd conclusions. You are very lovely, can you not see that?" She covered her face upon his compliment, fearing that more tears would trail down her skin. She barely expected to feel her left hand gently ripped away. Nadir, whom had brought her hand from her face, now held it within his, and looked her in the eye, "Has no one called on you?" He asked her, his voice betraying a disappointment. Truly, how could a woman like her be left out in the cold? She was always at the sidelines of the stage, the supporting actress to the star, always left to watch her friends find their glory, and then live happily ever after. When was it her turn to shine? When would she find her happiness? Ever since she realized that it might never happen her personality and her enthusiasm had weakened considerably, and everyone could see it, though they said nothing.

"No," She sadly confessed. "Even my mother wonders why." There was no stopping her tears. Nadir's heart nearly broke in half when he saw her look over to him with such despairing eyes, "It just wasn't meant to be."


	29. So Many Questions

**A/N: I am so sorry to have kept you guys waiting... I had six tests in the past two weeks... yeah yeah, i know... excuses excuses. lol. I promise that I won't leave you guys hanging for another two weeks... I will update tomorow probably, and then again a few times on the weekend, since I've got so much spare time now... if everything goes according to plan, that is. I hope the chapter isn't too eventless, lol, I'm sure you'll LOVE some stuff. Please Review, you readers are the most amazing reviewers!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters (yay, I had a dream about Gerard Butler last night, woohoo!)**

It was certainly coincidental that the funeral just happened to land on a day of such gloom. As it turned out, Raoul's body was laid to rest right next to the Daae mausoleum, in the pouring rain. Kristen watched as poor Christine cried uncontrollably, her gloved hands covering her eyes, her sobbing obvious. Meg was also in tears, standing beside her mother, as the priest spoke those ominous words from the Holy Bible.

Kristen herself shed not one tear, and neither did Madame Giry. This she noticed without delay. But why would they bury him here? In a place which already held such sorrow for poor Ms. Daae. The world was sick, no doubt it would soon fall from it's illness. Still, she felt guilty for her other selfish thoughts. Kristen had begged Erik to attend the funeral, she begged continuously, and failed.

The priest's words seemed to blur into inaudible murmurs as Kristen's thoughts strayed from what was truly occurring. At first she cursed herself for being so self-centred, but as the sadness continued, she could no longer bare to watch. She recalled the words which Erik had said to her upon request of his attendance.

_People are already daunted by the fact that the count is dead, they do not need the added turmoil of seeing my face, mask or no mask._

It greatly dispirited her that no matter how much she loved him, he still refused to be seen. If he were here now, she knew she would be able to focuss more on the actual funeral, rather than mourning over the fact that he was probably down there in the depths of their lovely hell, composing some truly terrifying piece of music, or recalling his empty past.

She wanted to go to him, but leaving would prove distasteful. She couldn't believe that she was so attached to him. She never knew that their brief parting would be this painful.

Kristen nearly cried when she saw poor Christine fall to her knees as Raoul's coffin began it's descent into the earth. The young widow hid her screams of agony with the palms of her hand. In her eyes was the most horrifying fear a woman could ever show. Meg was already crying, clutching to her mother for support. Nearly everyone was crying. And she couldn't believe the gall of the press... men snapping pictures, trying for interviews! The woman's husband was dead for heaven's sake, and they were asking her how she felt!

The crowd eventually deserted the grave yard, some in tears, some with their head's bowed... with some it was clear that their sadness was merely a mask hiding their indifference. Christine, however, could not budge from her place in the dirt, her beautiful black gown becoming filthy with the soil and the mud.

"Come Christine, we must go now, the carriage is waiting." Kristen gently beckoned. How could she ever feel hatred towards the girl again? After all of this... There was nothing left but pity.

Christine said nothing. She moved naught but her head, in signal of refusal.

"Oh Christine," Meg sobbed, kneeling to the ground, and embracing warmly her severely distraught friend.

"You don't know how this hurts" Christine finally uttered in her pain, and continued crying. At this, Kristen could not hold back tears of her own. She knew that if circumstances had been different in the lair that night, she would never survive Erik's death. How would Christine find the strength to live after the death of Raoul?

Before the funeral, Christine had been collected, she did not know that the finality of this ritual would weigh so heavily on her heart. Kristen knew well the horror of finality, for the memory remained quite monstrously with her, of the day she thought she would never see again.

"Christine, listen, I know that what you must be going through is awful, but we cannot stay out here in this cold and this rain. You will get sick." Kristen offered, but quickly gave up as the young woman yet again refused.

"Christine, come with me, we will go back to the Populaire, and... I will show you the wonderful work they've done with the restoration! The stained glass is almost complete! I saw it this morning." Meg deserved credit. She too had been tremendously melancholic over the whole ordeal, but her words eventually got Christine up off the ground, and to the carriage. Strangely, it was not their friendship which brought Christine to stand, but the Populaire instead.

The whole lot of them were soaked from head to toe when they reached the safety of their transportation. The driver shot the three of them disturbing glances as they sat upon the very clean cushion seats. Madame Giry's strong authoritative stare was enough to force his eyes towards the road ahead, he did not give a backward glance again.

The ride back to the Populaire was a silent one, but words would have been inappropriate. Christine's gaze landed upon nothing else but the floor, Meg looked simply depressed from the inside out. Her bruises had healed some what, but their marks still burdened her face considerably.

Christine would not see the glass which graced the newly restored windows of the theatre. Upon entering the building, she ran straight to her room... her_old_ room, and sat in the corner, frightened. Since the fire, everything from these old quarters of her's had been removed, and she saw that the mirror, though it remained, had been tampered with, and would probably never open again.

As Madame Giry departed from them to go and speak with the managers, Kristen slowly trailed her way through the labyrinth, taking her time to get home.

...(Scene Shift)...

As she travelled through the tunnels, deeper and deeper into the darkness, the music grew louder and louder in it's sorrow. What must he be feeling? She thought, growing exceedingly worried for her fiancé. She almost never heard him play, and certainly she'd never heard this piece in her life. It must have been his own, original score.

She passed through the mirror passage, still soaked was her funeral gown, which Erik had made for her especially. How odd it was that he was so capable with a needle and thread. He apparently did not acknowledge her entry, for he did not stop playing, he did not turn around to see who the intruder was. To her disappointment, she saw that he wore the hideous mask, along with the same formal black attire, but the music he played was breathtaking. She could scarcely think straight to even ask him to remove it. Perhaps right now she thought it best not to.

Moving towards him, as he passionately struck the ivory keys with his ingenious finger tips, she gently put her hands to his shoulders, then softly wrapped them around to his chest, embracing him from behind, her front to his back. She saw his eyes close in reaction to her affection, but mazingly he continued to play, knowing that it was her... perhaps he knew she had returned all along but refused to end his musical brilliance. Her hold on him did not limit the use of his arms however, he still managed to continue the magnificence.

"Erik?" She whispered softly, kissing his cheek... the side which was not covered in that ghastly plastic. "You are troubled, please tell me what has you so?" she kissed him again. Quite shockingly he stopped playing, right in the middle of whatever he was performing.

"You were gone longer than expected." He said darkly, but she could hear the lamentation in his voice... he had missed her greatly.

"I know, Erik." She said, moving closer to him, strengthening her arms around him. "It was all so horrible."

"Did she cry?" He asked.

"Yes, she did" She answered honestly. There it was, his never ending concern for her. Could she blame him? She could not... right now, after the terrible experience of that funeral, she felt more than willing to accept that he would always love Daae in some form.

"What has you so troubled?" She asked again, letting go of him and walking around to sit beside him on the bench. He said nothing, and it only worried her more.

"Has something happened while I was away?" She asked. Her stomach nearly flipped over in her abdomen, with the fear of her own assumptions. As she looked to him now, all she could see was the mask, with the angle she was seeing him from. She looked away, she had too... it had been quite a long while since she saw him wear it, but she still had not the heart right now to tell him not to, though she greatly wished she had the courage.

"No... nothing." He said, putting his hands back to the organ, and continuing. All she could do was listen. She listened to the pain which came from the music. This inner pain which was more often than not reflected in his own eyes. She closed her lids, and just sat there... would he never find peace from his horrid past?

...(Scene Shift)...

Meg was greatly troubled as she walked these hallways which were once the scene of horror stories and fright. Oh how disturbing it was for her to walk them aimlessly, knowing that there was no real ghost. How dull the place would be now that Kristen was going to marry the ghost.

Would the Phantom agree to an open wedding? Or would they wed in solitude where no one could bare witness to the masked groom?Meg sighed quietly. It could be worse, she thought. Erik could be taking her away... but he's not. It then occurred to her that Erik had not been at the funeral. Had Kristen told him not to come? No... she would never be that heartless. She imagined that Erik had probably refused her eager invitation. Come to think of it... Nadir was not there either... but then again... why on earth would he go to the funeral?

She painful slammed her fist against the wall. She couldn't think about him! As a rule she would not think of him. He had been too kind... too awfully kind. She knew the feelings which were forming within her heart... she knew she was growing fond of him. She also knew that a man like him would have no interest in a common ballet rat, no matter how flattering his words may have been, she was just a dancer, one of many, as her mother liked to say.

Nadir... how unusual his name was. He was Persian right? She'd heard of Persia... almost instantly her curiosity towards the place began to grow. It was dooming. He would never escape her thoughts now... not now... not ev-

"OH! Goodness I'm so s... sorry." She hadn't seen who it was that she had slammed right into until she opened her saddened eyes and found that she looked right into the very eyes of Nadir himself. What was he still doing here? By now shouldn't he have been half way back to his mysterious country?

"Meg?" He asked, the tiniest smile lifting the corners of his lips. She was utterly speechless. No one had ever looked at her that way before. It was fear more than anything now that filled her young heart. "Why are you lurking about? Should you not be in bed, you are not fully healed of your injuries." He said. Oh his voice, she knew now that she would never forget that sound.

"It doesn't matter" She said. "My room is hardly a place of comfort to me, and I am not very tired."

"You are soaking wet." She looked down at her drenched gown, she could not disagree.

She wanted to say something... anything, but every word she yurned to speak became launched in her throat, nearly blocking her breath. "Meg, why are you sad?"

She nearly turned and walked away. She could not do this... she could not open her mind to this man, this man who was slowly destroying her beating heart. But something inspired her to stay, something she could not describe.

"You know why I am sad." She told him, swallowing whatever pride she had stored within herself. She knew he remembered their conversation, did he really possess such short term memory loss? or was he doing this on purpose?

She became confused by his silence, but she lacked the courage to look up at him.

He could not believe the girl. She reminded him of Erik with the way she lurked about in darkness, the way her voice betrayed her sorrow, her eyes constantly threatening to cry. Her life could not have been so miserable that she would feel so alone. He'd seen many women, Meg was not like them. She couldn't see her own beauty? God, he was sure everyone else could.

Her heart jumped within her chest when he took her hand, and beckoned her foward, "Come with me, I'm sure that if you get out of these shadows you will feel better." he told her, guiding her from the corridors towards the grand entrance..._only_ the very scene of that brutal incident with those heartless navy men. She would have stayed in the shadows, had it been any one else trying to rip her from them.

"You know this place well..." She said, allowing her grip to tighten somewhat.

"There was a time, not so long ago, that I, along with the Phantom, lurked behind the walls of this theatre. Erik is quite good at what he does, but not even the trap door lover himself can pull off living five storeys below the Populaire without some sort of assistance."

"You were his assistant?"

"More of a servant." he returned quietly, continuing down the hall, "He could have got along without me, but for some strange reason he saved my life... saved me from the strange sirens which occupy that mystifying lake."

"So you knew of everything? You knew he was the one causing such turmoil amongst the managers and performers?"

"I knew..." he replied, "There was not much I could do to stop him. No one stops Erik."

"What stopped him from having Christine?" She then asked, much more quietly than she had spoken before. This question truly startled him. Why would she be concerned with that when it was Kristen who now occupied the man's heart.

"It is complicated." Nadir said, as they entered the large space of the more recently restored rotunda. "Christine agreed to marry him."

Meg knew some of the story, but she had not been present that night until after Erik had fled from the apparent scene of tragedy... neither had anyone else. The only one who hinted about the events of that night was Christine, in her sorrow towards Raoul's lust for revenge, and even those words had been vague to her, when there had been so much at stake.

"I know" Meg said, "But why did he not marry her? Why would he allow her to go off with that..." She didn't want to insult the dead... so she simply did not describe him.

"With Raoul?"

She nodded.

"My dear," Nadir began, sitting on a set of steps situated to the left of the front doors. Meg sat as well, intent on listening. "Erik has lived on this earth as a ghost. You've seen his face, have you not?"

"He is not so frightening..." she said.

"No... not to you, who knows that he means to cause you no harm. People are ignorant, love, they live with the belief that anyone who is not born perfect must be straight from the fires of hell. No one loved him... No one would touch him, or go near him. Apparently, Christine kissed him that night. To live your whole life knowing that you will never be loved, then be shown love by the one person your whole heart desires, is enough to kill you. He couldn't hold her prisoner, not after that."

Meg listened with a heavy heart. Her eyes were glued to the marble floor as she tried to imagine everything he had just described. "He has Kristen now." She whispered. Any louder, and she knew she would be crying.

"Meg?" he asked. She would not look to him. He brought his hand to her chin to move her to face him. "Do you honestly feel so lonely?"

Suddenly she had to concentrate on breathing. Honestly she did feel so lonely, and the more she felt this way, the more she began to believe that there was no cure for it. She tried to imagine what he must think of her, after knowing Erik for so many years, a man who could rightfully say he was lonely. She bore no horrid deformity, even so, her heart was at serious risk of breaking. Her beautiful eyes began to moisten as she looked up to him, "I wish I could say no" She softly whispered.

Nadir couldn't quite put his finger on the last time he'd felt such sadness for another, but this was certainly a moment. He saw it in her eyes that she wasn't lying. He hadn't seen such empty despair in anyone, except Erik himself. "No... Meg, please don't cry." he said,

She didn't sob, though she shed tears. "Nadir, how well do you know my mother?" She asked.

Sudden confusion swept over him. Why would she want to know that? "I used to know your mother, but I haven't_really_ spoken with her since before the accident."

She decided to herself to waste no time. He was crushing her inside, treating her with such kindness... she knew that hopeless was the right word for this situation. "Will you answer me honestly, though my words may be less than polite."

"Of course." He replied.

"Why are you here? Why are you staying in the theatre? Raoul is dead, Erik and Kristen are safe, the Opera will be up and running within a few short months, why do you stay? And why do you spend time with me?" She had never been so bold, but she knew that these words would either send him away or answer her curiosities, and she was not willing to pretend that he felt anything for her when he showed her such care.

Silence persisted for a few moments before Nadir took the liberty of standing from his spot beside her. He walked out into the centre of the large rotunda, his footsteps causing echoes throughout the entire area . She watched him, her tears beginning to dry. There was no better way to cure pain than to be numb to it all together. If she had to be so mean as to question his motives... oh she hated herself already.

She, in turn, stood from the cold stone steps, and approached him slowly, her voice was soft and gentle when saying "Nadir, will you please answer me before I completely lose my mind? Is it truly the past kindness of my mother which keeps you here?"

He turned to face her, "Of course it isn't your mother's past kindness." He blurted out before he had the chance to contemplate the possible stupidity of his comment. It would not be better left unsaid though. The young lady wished to know? So she would. "That woman has a glare colder than ice."

She froze. What was he saying?

"Meg... For the past five days I've been trying to put this into words... but I am not as poetic nor romantic as a man should be. Meg, you're spectacular... I've always thought so. All the while I was the Phantom's assistant I've watched you. I've watched you dance... I've heard you sing on occasion, and now that I've met you... I cannot understand how a woman like you could not have been called on yet. Men in France are the most idiotic human beings I've ever laid eyes on."

Still she stood frozen. This must have been a dream, a simple illusion that would fade away at morning's first light.

"I would understand it completely if you wish me gone for revealing this... I adore you Meg," He took her hand in his, "I have missed Persia, but I was never sad in being here... recently I have wished not to leave."

Had Meg ever been paralysed before? She didn't know, but she was now. _Why_? was the only question she could think of. This was happening too fast... much too fast, she could barely think clearly. Moments ago this could not have been predicted by even the greatest fortune teller.

"N..." She wanted to say his name, but still she could not speak. She looked up into his dark mysterious eyes and wished she had the courage to say the same things back to him. She allowed her eyes to close as he brought his hand to warm her cheek,

"Please tell me my heart does not seek disappointment." He said gently.

The anticipation was murder. She was never flirtatious, he knew that. She was quite lady like, with all gratitude paid to her mother.

"It does not." She whispered. God only knew how hard it was for her to manage those three words.

Had anyone been close enough to see them, surely their first kiss would not have been kept secret for long.


	30. Relapse of Emotion

**A/N: Ok, My computer is a total mess... Don't be surprised it if restricts me from updating for a while! I hate it! Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter. Oh, I"ve finally found a way to put lines into the text, so i'm sure it will make you all much happier. Please Read and Review, thanx :)**

Kristen stood enveloped by the surrounding darkness of that ominous room, which claimed resting place to the horrors of Erik's past. She knew he was troubled. She could hear the emotion and the pain in the music he played. What had happened during her absence?

She put light to a few of the many candles which filled the dusty space, and searched around her. She was thankful he had no problem with her being in there. He could very well have stood from his instrument and demand that she leave. Nothing in this room held any sentimental value to her whatsoever. She knew the story of the tiny rusted cuff's, but other than that, she was completely ignorant of the origins and the past of all his other horrendous items.

Stacks upon stacks of books covered the antique wooden table in the corner. Books which were worn with time and use. The light of the candles sent little shadows dancing on the walls around her her as she approached the books. She soon realized she should not have turned her back to the door, for the very voice she'd grown to love had startled her beyond her wildest imagination. Erik would never frighten her, it was not that it was_his_ voice... any noise would have shocked her.

"Why do you take such liking to this horrid place?" She heard him ask. Her heart throbbed painfully against her rib cage as she searched frantically through her mind for the right words.

"Erik..."

"You should not trouble yourself with this collection of misery."

Her brows slightly lifted in an anguished expression. He now sounded just as he had before the beginning of their amazing love affair. What lurked within this man which inspired such agony?

"I love you, Erik." She said, though her words were severely out of place. She saw his eyes close, just as they had closed upon knowledge of her touch as he played.

"I know Kristen," he whispered, "I love you too..."

"Please tell me what is wrong." she said, "I cannot bare to see you so immensely saddened."

He said nothing as he approached the table of old and worn books, she only heard the softest sigh from him, as he began to flip through the timeworn pages. Kristen felt a sudden urge of curiosity, something she was not used to feeling, but felt nonetheless. That same sadness devoured his eyes, the same sadness which was always there... until more recently. Why had it returned? The thought that perhaps she should not have left him to go to the funeral came abruptly into her mind. That could not be the cause... could it?

Then, for no particular reason, her focuss was drawn to the tiniest toy sitting in the far corner of a black shelving unit. The candlelight was reflected in it's miniature gongs, and in it's eyes. A monkey, in Persian robes. She silently neared the object, occasionally glancing over her shoulder for a sign that he was watching her. He was not, he seemed altogether focused on the book which he was reading.

She reached the toy, and gently lifted it from where it rested, leaving a circle of dark wood, surrounded by dust which had not acquired residence below it's spectacularly decorated form. She carried it with careful hands towards Erik, and once close enough, she gently laid the ornament upon the book from which he read, and looked up to him.

"Was this yours too?" she asked with softness.

He glanced down at the trinket, and slowly nodded. "Yes." he replied.

She watched him gaze at the monkey. His eyes became rather distant, she knew he was remembering something.

"What does it do?" she curiously inquired.

He stared down at the toy. It was impossible to describe the enormous waves of emotion and memory which began to flood his tortured soul. It was an object in which he'd intentionally forgotten, and had no ambition to come into contact with again. Although now, his darling beloved Kristen subsisted in reawakening it's ability to sadden.

"It plays music" He answered softly. He walked around the table to her side, and put his hand to it. A few short moments later it began to project the sweetest harmony she'd ever heard, and the most painful song he would ever know.

"Oh, it's enchanting!" She told him, but as she looked up into his eyes, she knew that he was not feeling the same things. "Erik..." she said, taking both of his hands, and beckoning him to face her. "We're going to be married." she told him. "We're going to have a baby... why are you woeful? and why must you wear the mask?" she asked.

Before he could say a word she gently embraced him, resting her head on his shoulder, holding him closely to her, putting her hand to the back of his neck.

"I am haunted." he said. Truly he was. He could never have imagined that her absence would instill within him such fear that she may not return. He strongly refused to attend that funeral for the very real reason that if he had been there, the public would ridicule him... laugh at him... the last thing he needed was to see those hateful people pointing their mocking finger's at him. The lair was an entirely different place without her there. She could be anywhere in the threater, and he would be fine. But if she left the building, he was alone, completely alone. The funeral had taken several hours, to his great distress. Since meeting her he'd never been away from her that long.

Every horrid memory had come back to him in being down there unaccompanied, how could he tell her this?

Her brow lifted once more in an look of sadness. "By whom are you haunted?" She asked in a caring tone, "Or what?" She knew the answer... it must have been his past. But then there was also that underlying fear that somehow Christine was still the cause of this relapse of sadness.

Darkness returned to his voice, but the way he held her, without exception contradicted his intonation. This especially moved her. He spoke with the hiss of the Devil, but held her with the hands of an Angel. "I have lived a rather hateful past which does not grant me peace."

Her eyes unintentionally closed, somehow hypnotized by his magnificent sound, and saddened by his words of sorrowing. "Erik," She whispered, her breath warming the side of his neck. She would kill to stand the rest of her life within his arms, consumed by that voice.

The music box started up again, as if an invisible hand had tampered with it's mechanics. She was pulled slowly by the music from her hypnotic state, and he was pulled further into the hell of his history. She half released him to allow enough room to look into his eyes.

She most certainly must have been in a less than sane state of mind, but he did nothing to stop her from what she did. In reaching up to touch his mask, she gently removed it from his rugged features. She not so much as glanced away at the sight of him, but he had to work up such strength in composing himself as he saw her turn the mask from herself.

This was in all respect the most insane course of action she'd ever taken, but regardless of that thought, she turned the mask, and slowly lifted it to her face. She had to know what he saw when he looked out through those dark and empty holes. She had to know what he felt from behind it. It was still warm from being against his skin. She saw his expression change from sad to astounded.

"My Kristen, what on earth do you think you will achieve?" he asked her.

She gently sighed, and removed it. "Erik, I know you think you are... less than perfect..." She paused, she could not be vague. "Please tell me you will never wear this around our child?"

Her question took the very breath from his lungs. She placed the unfeeling disguise onto to the nearest table, and returned her glance to him. "You have to promise me you will never wear the mask around our child."

"You wish me to frighten the child out of it's mind?"

"Our child will never know you to be frightening if he or she sees you everyday, and knows that you mean nothing but love and affection."

He was silent. She put her hand to his shoulder, and brought her lips to his in one very soft-hearted kiss. "I want our child to know you the way I know you." She saw his eyes become moist, and she felt terrible. She could not let him continue to hate himself, she just couldn't.

"You will be an amazing father, Erik." she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, looking into his deep emerald eyes, "You will teach our child incredible things. Your music, your architecture, your trickery..." She then sighed, "I wish I could have even a fraction of your talents." She brushed her lips against his once more, then wiped away the tears which she saw begin to trail transparent pathways down his cheeks. "Although, I am worried that while you teach our child things of such amazing genius, I will not be able to understand the matters you two will talk about, or your strange scientific experiments."

It was true he had been planning to teach their child everything he knew, but he never considered that somehow she would feel insignificant. Kristen, the love of his life, he would sooner cut off his arm than be the cause of her tears. He gently lifted his hand to her hair, and kissed her temple. "I won't let that happen." he whispered to her, trying with all his might to overcome his own sadness in order to make her happy. "I would never neglect you. And a child should spend more time with it's mother. We will raise him or her together Kristen, I promise you."

She looked up at him and smiled, "You promise?" she gently asked. He caressed her porcelain cheek, and nodded, "Yes."

* * *

Meg's heart was beating fiercely within her chest. She'd never felt the kiss of another. It was a kiss at first, before it grew into a series of kisses. She felt his hand against her neck, his thumb against her cheek. Nothing was real any more... her mind was so lost in this amazing show of affection.

Slowly their kiss was ended, but they scarcely parted. Her breathing was uneven, her eyes only slightly open. Everything she was feeling was written in her expression.

He could not deny that it was truly unbelievable. How could she not be married by now? How? It was impossible.

The whole rotunda was ghostly silent, every corner was in shadow, there was scarcely light at all. Meg could have been frightened by this place, but she wasn't. She felt so safe as Nadir cloaked his arms around her, and held her closely. She could not calm her heart, she almost wanted to cry. Once more her heart was skipping beats as their lips met again. So close they were... until the most ghastly sound filled the air. Footsteps.

She didn't know whether it was her or him which broke off first, but both of them retreated to the refuge of a shadowed corner as they saw her mother, Madame Giry, walk into the rotunda and up to the front doors. Meg's heart seemed to stop dead. Her breath caught in her throat.

Nadir watched Antoinette suspiciously. She looked out the window as if waiting for something, or someone. After several painstaking minutes of silence and worry, the ballet mistress left the rotunda, Meg and Nadir had gone undetected.

It was now, with this knowledge of their fear of Madame Giry, that they realized they had started something which could result in utter destruction.

"Oh Nadir," Meg said delicately. "She will never approve of us. Never..."

She leaned against him as he leaned against the wall, and allowed herself the comfort of his arms. This was awful, completely awful. Unless they prowled around together in secret, Meg would lose her position in the ballet, and God only knew what else.

He softly moved her golden hair behind her ears. "Everything will be fine," he tried to assure her, but he didn't know himself how_fine_ anything would be. He knew that the ballet was important to Meg, and he would never think of ruining it for her. But he also knew that it would be terribly cruel to love her then leave her.

She wouldn't let it end that way. If they were truly meant for each other, nothing would ruin that, nothing.

* * *

Christine jumped as she heard the knock at her door. Still she sat, huddled in the corner of her bedroom, tears just streaming down her face. Madame Giry waited outside her door for about ten seconds before she concluded that Ms. Daae would not be answering her. She turned the knob and entered her room. When she saw Christine sitting there like a frightened child in the corner beside her bed, she was instantly knelt before her.

"Christine!" she was so worried...

"Oh Madame Giry" Christine hugged her knees and burried her face within her arms. "It will never end... it will never ever end."

"Please Christine, I know that you are going through a very hard time, but you must try..."

"Everyone I love keeps dying." She said with such terror in her voice, such deep and deathly terror. She looked up at Madame Giry with wide crying eyes, "I shouldn't stay here." She sobbed. "I should not stay here in Paris. For my sake... for Kristen's sake. Madame, I shouldn't stay."

"But you must stay" Antoinette said, "Who will sing for us on opening night? We cannot find someone to match your talent! You are our leading lady Christine! We need you!"

Christine took several deep breaths in attempt to calm her sobbing, but was only partially successful. "I am no singer, Madame, I could never sing without my teacher. Only Erik knew how to teach me."

Antoinette could not disagree. Erik had taken this young lady and transformed her into a star. It would be deadly dangerous to ask Erik to continue giving her lessons. She knew that no one could match Erik in musical genius. There were only two options. She could either return to being student to Erik, or they would have to scan Europe for a new singer. Who would sing at the Populaire after such tragedy? They would never find someone with enough courage, or talent.

"I cannot return to him." She whispered in a shaking voice. "I broke his heart, he would never forgive me."

"He is going to marry Kristen."

"All the more reason for me to stay away." Christine bellowed. "If I get involved now, I could ruin everything for them."

"Nonsense!" Madame Giry said with authority. "You are not going anywhere. You have no where to go, and we need you. You must stay. I will talk with Kristen and Erik, if he will not coach you, then I will find another composer who will."

Christine couldn't believe this was happening, but she had no strength whatsoever to stand her ground against this woman. Erik would never agree to have anything more to do with her, and she knew it. _He must loath me_, she thought painfully. After Madame Giry closed the door, Chrisitne began to cry again. Her life was over.

Madame Giry moved quickly down the hallway towards the manager's office.

"WELL?" Shouted Armande, "Where are they? They should be here by now!" he spoke nervously, angrily.

"Relax monsieur, I am sure they will not delay much longer." She replied. The last shipment of building supplies was supposed to have shown up by now, but apparently, they were late. Over the past few months, the Populaire had gone through some major reconstruction work, the majority of it now complete. Madame Giry had been working with the ballet, everything there seemed to be under control. Auditions for a supporting cast were under way, thank heavens that some people still had the nerve to even enter the Populaire, after the rumours of the ghost and all. The only problem was Christine. There was not a woman in Paris who could sing like her. She was going to talk to Erik, she had to. He had to teach Christine again! He just had to!

Two hours later, the Populaire began final reconstruction. Within weeks, performances would once again grace their stage.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" she laughed quietly. Erik pulled Kristen along gently with a gloved hand through some very dark labyrinthine corridors. She could not recall ever being through these ones before. She would not fight with him about his wearing the mask while out of the lair... she could accept that.

"There should be something rather interesting taking place within the theater... if I have acquired the correct knowledge."

Knowledge? How could this man know anything about what was going on five cellars above, when they spent most of their time in the lair? He was truly a mystery.

"Erik...?" She said with some unease. Where_was_ he taking her? He just beckoned her forward, and she followed without hesitation.

"Box 5?" She asked. He nodded. "Why have you brought me here?" she whispered curiously. A red curtain concealed the audience's view of the box. Erik peered out through the thick fabric. Kristen in turn did the same.

"What are they doing?" she asked.

"Auditioning, no doubt. This should be interesting." he said dryly. The two of them stood there spying on the audition process. How odd it was that their circumstances could change so quickly.

"I hope that it can be like this forever from now on." she whispered to him. He withdrew from the curtain, and in the darkness took her into his arms. "It will be" he whispered to her, then kissed her passionately.


	31. Suspicions

**Chapter 31- Suspicions **

**A/N- Dear readers, I know I give writers everywhere a bad name for what I have done to those who have read my chapters loyally. This past year has been rather trying on me, I've had two jobs, and senior year of high school was not easy for one in the running for a future in university (Which has been gratefully granted). I apologize from the bottom of my heart to anyone who was greatly distressed by my year long delay. I now pursue the next chapters of this story, and hope that you can find it within yourself to forgive me my selfishness as a writer. Please review these next chapters, and I hope that I have not lost any ability to write in my failure to continue. I hope you enjoy these.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's original characters.**

* * *

"Shhh…" Erik warned. If she could have stopped herself she would have, but Kristen could not contain her laughter. She enjoyed ridiculing the hopelessness of those who thought they stood a chance as the next cast to perform at the Populaire. 

"Thank you very much Miss, I will get back to you as soon as auditions are over." Madam Giry announced to one of the younger opera singers, and probably one of the worst. She shook her head in contempt. The opera was doomed. Not only were they lacking of a cast, but uncertainties towards the return of Ms. Daae also plagued the aging heart of the ballet mistress. This was not an easy road to walk down, and the past twenty five attempting French men and women were less than satisfying. To top it off, she heard Kristen's snickering. She sighed with regards to the immaturity occurring in box five. Had Erik not the power to hold closed the mouth of his wife to be?

"I think she heard me" Kristen whispered to Erik, who was by now sitting in one of the chairs situated in his famous and supposedly 'haunted' box five. No doubt the sight of her enjoying the stupidity of the activities below was more amusing to himthan watching the actual stupidity below.

"No wonder, had I been five cellars down _I_ would have heard you." he said. She let the curtain sway to a close, the light from the auditorium fading from the box. They were now enshrouded in darkness.

"Will they never find people with enough talent to perform in your operas?" Kristen wondered, taking a seat beside him.

"It is doubtful" he replied. "The cast they had before were not spectacular, but they were capable. What you see down there Kristen, is the desperate attempt of an old woman who severely fears the fall of her career." She slowly exhaled,

"Did you bring me here only to watch the auditions?" she asked. He didn't reply. Why _did_ he bring her here? He wondered to himself. Perhaps it was his longing to have a companion with him in that lonely box. She wondered how much longer she could continue to accept silence as an answer. She lifted herself on the seat, now sitting on her right leg, her dress pouring over the seat around her. She kissed his unmasked cheek. With no light, she could barely see what she was doing, and he was aware of that. He stood, and was about to lift her from the very seat she sat on, when one of the most destructive sounds he'd ever heard began to fill the theatre. Instantaneously his hands moved up to protect his skilled ears, and she in turn did the same. Who in the name of hell was down there screeching like that? Like nails on a chalkboard.

Kristen peered through the cover of the red curtain, to see yet another lady on that stage, bellowing out her last chance at an opera career. She saw Madam Giry lay down her fountain pen, and close her notebooks. That was it. There would be no more.

* * *

Meg was ignorant to Nadir's whereabouts, as she sat in the same dark rotunda, pondering her emotions, and glancing to the spot of her first kiss. For the first time, she felt as though everything she feared before was demolished with that simple contact of flesh. The heavy sorrows which plagued her heart, were replaced by the notion that she was going to be ok, as long as her mother didn't find out. And it was with that thought that she completely broke down. Her mother. That woman, who had criticized her for knowing nothing, would probably try to prevent her from knowing anything. Nadir told her he had business toattend to within the theatre regarding the finishing construction work, but where that was was a mystery to her, and right now more than anything she longed to be near him again. 

Silence filled the spacious room, she remained seatedwith her eyes closed. A woman in her position should have been smiling, but now she knew what it must have been like for young Juliet in Shakespeare's play, she'd once held the character so high above herself, and now she felt herself stepping right into the shoes of the fictional 14 year old.

"What are you doing here?" Madam Giry inquired of her daughter, as she stepped into the grand entrance.

Meg was startled. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the very sight of the woman who threatened her existence with Nadir. "Oh, Maman, you frightened me."

"You should be resting." Antoinette said, "You are not fully well yet. Come with me, you should be in bed."

Meg stood, and followed her mother to their quarters. There was no use in fighting with her, not right now. It would be a stupid thing to make her mother angry at her right now, when so much stood in the hands of Madam Giry.

Meg suffered through her dinner, she could barely eat. The only thoughts occupying her mind were that of Nadir.

"You're unusually quiet Meg." her mother stated.

Meg swallowed her tea biscuit with difficulty upon those words. Her mind scrambled for the right words, "I am just so distraught over Christine, don't worry Maman." she conveniently offered.

"Don't worry about Christine" Madam Giry said, "As soon as she returns to her position as leading lady, she will be happier. Who knows, perhaps she will even attract a new suitor. Of course, all of this is pending on whether Erik will agree to continue training her."

Meg's eyes widened, "Erik? you're not thinking of reuniting the two?"

"We have no choice Meg," said Giry, "The Populaire is already hopeless as it is. There is no composer nor teacher like Erik in all of France."

Meg grew frantic with worry, although she made great effort to conceal that from her mother. She returned to her meal with not another word towards Christine, or Erik.

It didn't take long for night to consume the world around them. It seemed as though her mother would never fall asleep, but time proved her wrong. Meg tip-toed passed Madam Giry with the utmost silence, and left the dormitory in her nightgown, something she wouldn't normally do, but she had to warn Erik, and Kristen.

* * *

"What is going to happen to the Populaire?" Kristen voiced quietly, her head resting against Erik's shoulder as he carried her back to their home below the ground. He insisted on carrying her, as he would not have his lovely fiance walk six or seven flights of stairs in her delicate condition. 

"I cannot answer that Kristen," he replied, as they neared the fifth cellar. Their descent into darkness was a peaceful one, silence was the greatest friend to them now as nothing could have been worse than the squeals coming from that stage.

Upon walking through the doorway he gently put her to her feet, and held her in a soft kiss before allowing the beautiful red curtain to block the passage. She looked up at him with admiration. She'd have that mask off before the clock would be allowed to strike another moment, when Erik turned towards the curtain, and Kristen did the same. Footsteps, cautious and careful ones, were coming their way.

"Get in the bedroom Kristen," Erik said. He would not take chances with his wife to be, or child. Anyone could have been coming down that passage. Kristen hesitated. She didn't have the heart to leave him there alone to face whateversnuck down that corridor, until she saw the look in his eyes, the worry. She immediately turned and fled towards further protection.

Erik walked to the curtain, collecting his infamous lasso along the way, and opened thefabric to reveal a startled young girl with blond hair standing just beyond the other side. She let out a startled gasp, and Erik let down his guard.

"Meg," he said calmly, "I could have killed you."

Meg swallowed hard, "I know," She said, "Where is Kristen."

"I'm here," Kristen came out of the bedroom, "Meg, what on earth brings you all the way down here at this time of night?."

"It's urgent. Kristen, I must speak with you…" She looked up at Erik, then back to Kristen, "In private, if it isn't too much trouble."

Erik watched the both of them, astonished. What was this?

"Erik, would you mind it terribly if we spoke in secret?" Kristen asked, figuring it was just some small thing from the young ballet dancer.

Erik shook his head, and walked towards the organ, "It is no business of mine what women talk about when they're alone." Although he was hardly ignorant of that, as he'd spied countless times on the perverted conversations of the ballet rats in their dressing rooms. He hardly believed Meg and Kristen would speak words half as obscene as the ones spoken within the confines of a dressing room.

Kristen emitted a small laughter. She was so pleased that he was capable of humor at a time like this, even if it was only in the smallest degree. She quickly took refuge from male ears within her and Erik's bedchamber, and sitting upon the lovely swan bed, she inquired of Meg's reasons for being down there. The happy air was about to change.

"I have some rather unsettling news." Meg said.

Kristen's ears seemed to move in their haste to know. "What's wrong dear Meg?"

"Maman is having difficulty finding new people to perform within the populaire."

Kristen laughed behind closed lips, "I know, I heard them auditioning, they were horrible!"

"No, no! It isn't funny. She's hysterical! She wants Christine to return to the stage as the leading lady!"

Kristen frowned with wonder, "That sounds perfectly fine to me." She said.

Meg shook her head, "You don't understand yet, she wants Erik to return to coaching her!"

Kristen froze, in shock. Meg had never seen eyes grow so wide. Kristen had not once contemplated this _really_happening, not once. "You can't be serious"

"I am serious! And I… oh Kristen, everything is falling apart!"

"You what?" Kristen asked, and it was then that tears began brimming the delicate eyes of the young ballerina.

"I… I don't want to see anything bad happen to you and Erik. I was so happy for you when I found out about your expecting a child. Kristen smiled softly, and hugged Meg lightly.

"Erik loves me, and I love him. If anything is strong enough to break that, then love does not truly exist." After Kristen's words, Meg turned her head towards the entrance, and sighed.

"I think…" she began, but found it difficult to continue. "Kristen, if I tell you a secret will you promise not to tell any one else?" she asked.

"A secret?" Kristen responded with interest. The lightheartedness of this conversation was such a nice contrast to the unending negativity plaguing the people of the opera house.

"I think I, well, I don't really know what it feels like to be in love, but I…"

"You have feelings for someone?" Kristen asked in excitement. "WHO!" She could not contain her curiosity, but the news that Meg was possibly in the midst of a relationship was purely joyful. She could almost feel Erik's eyes on the bedroom door… or curtain.

Meg blushed, and looked down at the silk sheets beneath her. "If my mother found out, it would be ruined."

"Are you intimate with someone?" Kristen asked. Meg shook her head,

"Not completely." She said.

"Who"

"N…" she couldn't finish. Kristen frowned. That was less than a satisfying reply, with barely any room for guessing, when she began to think. No one's name began with an 'N' besides the very name of….

She slapped a hand over her mouth to cover a wide smile.

Meg's eyes widened slightly at the look Kristen was giving her, "Nadir?" Kristin whispered. Meg closed her eyes tightly, seemingly embarrassed. "Oh Meg, that's wonderful! That's… you know he and Erik have known each other for quite some time, they…"

"He told me everything" Meg interrupted, "And I also happen to know that my mother knows him as an assistant to 'The Phantom', and a foreigner. I can sense it now, she will never approve, never never ever!" She said, like a panicked little child.

"She doesn't have to know Meg" Kristen assured her, "You are old enough to take care of yourself now. The Populaire probably won't get anywhere with the way things are turning out, if that happens you can…. I don't know, run away with him.""You know, I also thought you two looked at each other a bit strangely." Kristen teased.

"Are you going to tell Erik?" Meg asked.

"About you and…"

"No, about teaching Christine."

Kristen fell silent once more. Why that topic had to have been brought back up for discussion was beyond her. "I don't know," she answered, "We've had such a hard day already, I wouldn't want to ruin the happiness that managed to catch up with us near the evening. He's such an anguished man, Meg, he deserves to forget everything that happened before Christine left him that night. I don't think that seeing her on a day-to-day basis will be good for him."

Truthfully, Kristen didn't think it would be good for her either. She would forever have that question in the back of her mind of how much he still may feel for her. She also knew that no marriage can last on a foundation of insecurity, or distrust. "I suppose I should tell him though, before someone else, like your mother, does that job for me. I think you should go back though, if your mother finds you out of bed she might worry. She could be up searching for you right now, and I would hate to have more visitors this night." Meg nodded in agreement, and stood from the bed. "Go find Nadir, maybe he's still awake" She said with a fine smile. Meg quickly left the bedchamber,

"I'll see you tomorrow Kristen." She said. On her way out, she kindly bid Erik goodnight, and he replied accordingly.

Once the curtain was closed, and the two were left alone once more, Erik could not help but look up to his beautiful companion, and inquire as to what went on.

"I swear, I heard you shriek louder than the last one who auditioned up there."

She gave him a slight smile, and walked over to the organ where he sat, and placed herself beside him on the bench. Then she gentlysighed and put her hand to his face, removing the mask. She swore to herself she would someday smash that thing to a million pieces if he continued to wear it inside their home. "Meg told me some quite personal information involving herself and another."

"She's taken a lover." he assumed.

She nodded while placing the mask upon the instrument. She figured that there was no room for secrets between them, even ifthe secretswere innocent little ones. Erik would want to know about this one any way, since it involved one of his best friends. "You have to promise not to become radical when I tell you who he is." she said.

Erik frowned, and waited.

"She and Nadir, have found a rather close connection to each other." she said, andprepared herself to stand from an earth shattering response. Instead, she received nothing but laughter from him, a silent, low laughter, almost dark.

"You're out of your mind. She told you that?" He asked.

"She did" Kristen said, "I hope you can believe it, I…"

"I have no doubts, my love." Erik said, "It's just that her mother won't like this one. If I know Madam Giry, she'll lose control of her rationality if she finds out… Is that all the Meg came to tell you about?" he asked.

----

Meg Tiptoed up the last flights of stairs before reaching the main floor. She made it an effort now to pass through the rotunda whenever she could manage. She would never look at that room the same way again. She silently ran up the next flight of stairs from there, and was prepared to progress to her mother's quarters, when she heard a noise behind her.

"Meg?" It was Nadir. She smiled.

"How is the construction?" she asked.

"It's construction," he told her, and brought her to him in a hug. She delightedly returned this gesture, "how have you been?"

"Worried," She told him, "I should not even be out of bed right now. I just know my mother will not approve of us" she told him.

"She will have to approve of us, she has no choice. She cannot control your life. If she doesn't approve then… we'll think of something."

"You can take me back to Persia with you." She joked, and he smiled. She was adorable.

"Someday, soon, or not, perhaps that will happen." He kissed her forehead, in perfect timing. Christine stood in the doorway facing them, with a hand over her mouth.


	32. A Collision of Terror

**A/N: OMG, I'm so happy with everyone's comments, thank you all so much for not being mad at me for delaying. Regarding Meg and Nadir: This should be interesting, and about Erik tutoring Christine: This should be interesting. Let's see where the story goes! 3...2...1...:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters, but I tell you all my dear readers, some day I will own Gerard Butler! lol.**

Chapter 32

Darkness seemed to fall over the opera house through the eyes of young Meg. Had there been any kind of expression in Christine's empty eyes, she perhaps would not have worried as much as she worried the moment she saw her friend's manner. It was only a small kiss, not even on the lips, but enough to send Christine into a nightmarish daze. She stared at them.

"Meg" was all she said, in a startled and bewildered tone.

"Christine," Meg replied, removing herself from Nadir and towards the young diva. "Are you alright?" She asked, obviously thinking this had something to do with Christine's sudden loss, Raoul. "Is there anything I can do?"

Christine stood there, and looked at Meg with the same eyes Meg had once seen her show during her 'phantom' scare.

"Christine?"

"I'm going downstairs." Christine quietly announced, and turned, and left. Meg considered following her, but thought it best not to. Was this small happening all due to Raoul's death? Or did this have something to do with Nadir. She didn't know, and she was afraid to find out. She turned back to Nadir,

"I'm worried about her," She said, "I've never seen her look at _me_ that way." She leaned over the rail to watch Christine on the first floor, eyeing the stained glass as if remembering something horrific.

"Go talk to her" was all he said, and she saw him walking away. Meg's heart pumped furiously.

"Christine?" she shouted, and raced down the staircase. "Christine, what was that? What's wrong?"

Christine turned to look at her young friend. "What are you doing with him Meg?" She asked. Meg froze. Was her question meant to bare such negativity?

"He… I… we're kind of."

"He is the last man you want to marry, Meg." Christine told her. Marry? Meg thought. Who said anything about marriage? Even though she had been thinking about it from the moment he carried her from the dungeons of the opera house to her bedroom. She couldn't find a better way to respond than to ask

"Why?"

"Meg, you know nothing about him! He's strange to this place, and to you. Why are you with him? What do you feel for him?"

"Why are you asking me this Christine?" Meg asked, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She never would have guessed that the first bit of happiness she would find would be looked down upon in the eyes of her best friend.

"Because Meg, that man is half as good as you think he is, if not less than half. He lured my Raoul into the dungeons after Don Juan Triumphant, knowing what kind of dangers awaited him! That man was part responsible for everything! I'm not trying to hurt you Meg, I'm trying to warn you. You don't know him."

"He lured Raoul into the dungeons so that he could rescue you." Meg corrected coldly, "He saved me from fatality, and sadness. Do not tell me what is best for me Christine, you are a far cry from being my mother."

"If your mother knew about this she would never approve."

And then there was silence. A long silence. Meg just starred Christine in the eye, "Never tell her." Meg said, her voice the very portrait of fear, "She would never approve."

"Meg, I'm just worried about you. You are young. You still have so many years left to find happiness. Do not give yourself away to the first man who is willing to touch you."

With that comment lingering in her mind, Meg turned and walked away from the girl who stood in the rotunda. A girl Meg did not even know any more. The word 'willing' flooded her thoughts. Willing?…… Willing? Every possible meaning of the word crowded her thoughts, and why did Nadir keep walking away like that? Perhaps he thought the girls needed some time alone. Just as she turned herself towards the west wing of the opera house, she found herself face to face with her mother, who stood over her like a cat prepared to strike for it's prey.

"Meg, why are you out of bed, and why are you crying?" Madam Giry asked her daughter. Meg stood there speechless. "What is going on with you? You are hiding something from me and I will not rest until I know what it is."

"Mother, I was…" She broke down. Right there in the middle of the hallway, she fell to her knees, hid her face within her hands, and let the world fade away in her tears. Antoinette looked beyond her crying daughter to see Christine in the rotunda. She would not talk to the 'soon to be' leading lady right now, but when the time came, she would get her answers from Meg's best friend.

* * *

Kristen walked slowly through their darkened domain. How was she going to tell Erik about Christine? This was the hardest moment of her life since talking to him about marriage. She turned around to watch him sitting at the organ, writing something down on paper, no doubt plans for his next masterpiece. Suddenly the urge to pen her own feelings filled her soul, but right now she knew that writing down these thoughts would not get her any further in her dilemma.

With both hands to her stomach, where her beloved son or daughter grew, she looked into the water and tried to gather the courage to talk to Erik about the one thing that now scared her most.

Minutes must have passed as she starred at her reflection in the misty lake. Like a ghost, she saw Erik's mirrored image creep up from behind her, and his face appear over her shoulder.

"Something has you troubled." He whispered into her right ear. Her heart secretly pounded to feel his breath on her. She turned around to face him,

"Yes, I know" she spoke softly as he gently placed his right hand on her cheek. Despite that his hands were cold, she fell into his touch as if he were the warmest being on earth. "There is something which needs bringing up." She said, "about the Opera." He waited a long while before she could finally tell him, but he would not push her to speak. "Madam Giry has not yet found a cast for the upcoming performance, but she has found her leading lady."

By now Kristen figured that Erik already knew who this lady was, but nonetheless she could not delay this news. "Christine Daae is to return to the stage."

"No doubt she is the only woman brave enough to sing on this stage after everything I've caused here in the past." At his words Kristen smiled, but not for long.

"No doubt," she answered, 'But that's not all. She wants you to continue teaching her. Kristen let the words flow from her like water, not even thinking about them as they came, for the anticipation would have prevented her from finishing her sentence. Erik's eyes widened, as Kristen had expected.

"That's impossible" he said, and turned from her to walk back to his organ, "That cannot happen." Kristen nearly fainted. She both wanted this answer, and dreaded this answer. He would not come into contact with her again. That was good. But the fact that something stopped him from that contact, scared her. He still felt something, and was afraid of it. She suddenly felt herself wishing that he would be fine with it. Now she truly understood what it was to never be satisfied.

"Why Erik?" she asked, following him up the carpeted hill. "Why is it impossible." She placed her hands on his shoulders from behind, only to have him turn to face her once more.

"Because of us." he said. "I would not have her come into our relationship. I will not have her influence your security here, I know that will happen. Christine is more of a child than she is a woman, the sound of my voice dazes her. I cannot teach her."

He was right about one thing, he did have the single most beautiful voice she had ever heard, but…

"Would you really have the Populaire fail in it's last attempt to shine?" she asked, "This beloved place, your home? Our home? I am not worried Erik, I will always be here. But I really think that the Populaire's success wrests solely on you now. She can't sing without your help. We have a child coming, and we'll need money. The only way for that to happen, is for Christine to sing. Please teach her." She couldn't believe the words coming from her mouth.

"You are asking me to teach her?" he asked.

Kristen nodded, "Yes," she closed her eyes and placed her head against his chest. She felt his arms move around her, her eyes still closed. "She will not harm our relationship, she mourns over Raoul right now, she-"

"Don't you see though?" he interrupted, "She's vulnerable, she's alone and frightened. Can she handle this?"

"I believe she can" Kristen hoped, and then there were no more words between the two, just the comfort of a long lasting embrace.

* * *

The next morning greeted the Populaire with a calm silence. The sky was clouded, the walkways wet, the rain accompanying the unease within the opera house. Kristen awoke to a silent patting coming from somewhere outside the bedroom. She slowly sat up and looked to Erik, who lay beside her asleep. She could not tell what dreams he was having, and she would have rested closer to him had the noise not played on her mind the way it did. Someone was coming their way, she couldn't let that go. She stood from the sheets, wrapped her silk robe around her, and left the bedroom careful all the while not to wake him.

By now she could tell just by listening to the girl breathing that Meg was on her way. Why would she visit this early in the morning? She asked herself. She rushed to the curtain and opened it before Meg could reach it.

"What are you doing here?" Kristen asked.

"Everything will fall apart before it even has a chance to materialize."

"What's wrong Meg?" Kristen asked, mildly concerned, nothing that terrible could be happening, the girl was still in one piece.

"Christine, she knows about me and Nadir, and she doesn't approve, and if she tells my mother…"

Kristen frowned, "Christine doesn't approve? Why?"

"I don't know, she thinks he's a bad man."

"Come in Meg, we'll talk this over, but you must maintain your silence, Erik is still asleep."

The young ballerina nodded, and entered.

"I shouldn't even be coming here, but I don't know what to do."

"It's ok Meg, everything will be fine" Kristen tried to comfort the girl, but the worry in her eyes mirrored everything she had once felt herself in her trials with blindness and love.

* * *

"Christine, it's time." The voice of Madam Giry woke the sleeping diva.

"Time for what?" Christine asked, soflty rubbing her eyes.

"It's time to go back to the dungeons."

Christine rose to a sitting position faster than light. "What!" She inquired nervously. Was this any way to awaken a sleeping woman?

"Erik will be your teacher." She answered.

"He has agreed?"

"Not yet, you must ask him."

Christine closed her eyes, and sighed unevenly, "this cannot be happening." She said. "He will never agree, not after everything. You know as well as I do that this match will be one made in Hell."

"Get out of bed, now." Giry ordered her as if she were her own daughter. There was nothing left for Christine to do but get out of bed as was instructed. She herself knew this was the last chance for the opera, even though she would much rather have moved back out into the country side, alone or not. She loved the Populaire, but this pressure and unease was not amusing.

As they left her bedroom, Christine was reminded of Meg's little secret. Nadir. This was something that Antoinette would have to know, but just as she was about to mouth the words, she felt a fear in the pit of her stomach that she had not felt since the night she was made to choose between Erik and Raoul. She stopped walking. Madam Giry turned around, "What is going through your head child?" she asked.

"I'm scared." Christine said.

"Of what?" Giry asked, trying to find some compassion for the girl, but right now it was the theatre's best interest that she was worried about, not the emotions of a young woman.

"Of him." she answered. Christine knew he was just a man, but he could be a frightening man. Was he still obsessed with her? Would he try once more to turn her into his own or had Kristen yet changed him into her own? Less importantly but still significant, did he still wear the mask?

"Oh, Christine, listen to me. He is not the monster you, or anyone else, may think he is. He will not hurt you."

"But…"

"Even when he kidnapped you, did he hurt you?"

"No" Christine replied quietly, as they walked through the darkened hallway towards the all familiar stair case.

* * *

"Meg, do you love Nadir?" Kristen asked, as they sat on the lovely Victorian sofa near the organ.

She sighed, "I don't know." she said. "I've never been in love before, but I know I feel something for him, something that I don't want to end."

Kristen's head turned towards the bedroom, Erik was waking up. Kristen's expression transformed into something of an accidental nature, "Uh oh," She whispered, "He won't be mad, will he?" Meg asked,

"No," she replied, "but I wouldn't condemn the possibility entirely."

Kristen lightly smirked as she saw him come out of the room in formal black, hidden behind that ugly mask. He must have heard Meg's voice. She immediately lifted herself from the sofa, and just as she was about to bid good morning to her future husband, the curtained passage flew open, and there stood Madam Giry, and Christine. Giry's eyes went angrily towards her daughter, as Christine's eyes moved frightened away from Erik.


	33. Lovers

**A/N: No reviews for my last chapter? Was it not good? Cries, I have to admit that I've been out of town for the past week because I was at the same place that I was last summer when I didn't update for a while. Sadly I must say that when I put off writing the story, it was already near the end.. Unless I have requests to continue the story further, I will be ending it soon, because this coming year I will have no time at all to write, I will barely have time during the summer to write. So my little story is coming to a close, I thank everyone who reviewed, and if anyone who read without giving reviews (because I know that some people just like to read, it really doesn't matter to me), could you please give me one teeny weeny review sometime soon? I really want to know whose been reading :D:D:D:D:D:D, any way,**

**I don't own the Phantom of the Opera or any of it's characters…. Damn! Gerard Butler is hot!**

Chapter 33

Kristen sighed. This was not good. All around her tension brewed. Giry's eyes were like daggers, and Erik's eyes positioned on the lovely Christine, who dared not look back towards him. She stood there, and just watched. She watched the anger. What was it for?

"Erik" Christine whispered, finally gaining control of the ability to speak to him. Kristen could tell however, that she was frightened beyond her wits.

"This is ridiculous" Kristen said, and everyone looked to her. "Madam Giry, why are you here?" she asked.

"Christine?" Antoinette looked to the girl, waiting for her to answer for her.

"Oh… Good God" Kristen whispered to herself, and made for the organ bench. What was to become of this? Shadows, she figured, were the best security from this chaos. She sat in the darkness silently as the madness played itself out.

"I have come to ask you to- well. A, Erik."

Kristen nearly snorted. The hatred she had once felt for this woman slowly returned. A? no doubt she nearly called him Angel, the wench, Kristen thought. Erik was right, the girl really was a child, a dangerous child who could ruin everything. She saw him turn to look for her, then back to Christine.

Erik frowned. How dare they intrude? Besides the fact that Kristen was basically his wife, nothing else was to change.  
"There are too many of you here. Madam Giry, take your daughter and leave." He ordered dryly. "Christine, you will stay. Madam Giry, this is now out of your hands." he said darkly. Kristen stood from the bench, and lifted the curtain, "Please go, Meg, I'll talk to you later about the Opera." And she winked at the young ballerina, as if to signal to Antoinette that Meg was there to talk to Kristen about the next production. Madam Giry nodded, and the two girls left.

Kristen hadn't felt this sort of satisfaction since the night Raoul died.

Christine turned, and looked to Kristen, "I'm sorry," she said quietly. Kristen shook her head.

"Don't be" She replied. She made her way to Erik's side, took his hand, and tried to smile at Christine. "We will help you." she offered. Erik looked down at Kristen with wide fierce eyes. Kristen returned his gaze with a certain authority she never expected herself to exert. "It is the only way to save the Populaire. Christine, you will take lessons only during the daytime, and in my presence. I know everything of the past, I will not have any more tragedy in this theatre. It is a long way from now, when you should need teaching. I will walk with you back to the surface."

Kristen then looked up at Erik, who seemed furious, although his hold on her hand was passionate. She slowly let go, allowing her touch to linger somewhat before she led Christine out of the dungeon.

"Why Christine?" Kristen asked, when they were out of range of the lair, although she knew Erik, he could be anywhere listening to them at the very moment.

The singer stopped, "Why what?" She asked.

"Why Erik?" Kristen's eyes conveyed sadness. She was so weary of the torment, the trouble involving Christine.

"It was Madam Giry's idea." she replied. "She told me to come here."

Kristen covered her eyes as they began once more to walk. For fear she would cry, she hid her sight. "I don't want to lose him Christine." She said, her voice a trembling whisper, and then she stopped once more, and leaned against the wall. "I love him." She took her hand away, and allowed long awaiting tears to cascade down her cheeks. All the while she tried strength. It ran out quickly. Trying to control her sobs, she looked to Christine,

"He loved you once, he could love you again." She said, the truth of that fact piercing the very heart within her chest.

Christine shook her head, "No… Kristen, if it is anything he feels for me, it is hatred. I've done him so much damage, I've caused him so much pain. How could he possibly find fondness for me now?"

"Because his past is one that he cannot bring himself to forget." Kristen returned, and then once more, began towards the surface, "Christine, I will warn you only once. You are to maintain a teacher/student relationship with him, do I make myself clear?" she asked sternly, stopping yet again in her tracks to face the singer, with almost as much madness, or pain, in her eyes as that in Erik's.

Christine nodded cautiously.

It would seem Kristen was picking up on his personality. "I will not lose him," and she said no more.

Upon reaching main level, Kristen opened the door for Christine, and then closed it, remaining in the stairwell. She would not stay with the girl any longer than was needed right now. Hurriedly, she descended back towards her home, oh how she worried.

Erik… she thought. She could remove the look in his eyes from her memory, and then as she entered, she was faced with them.

"What are you thinking Kristen?" Erik asked of her,

"I am thinking that you will teach her." she answered.

"You are creating a path of destruction for us both." he stood, and walked to her. She remained still, and waited. "The girl will part us. Mark my words." he said darkly. Cold chills ran up Kristen's body with his words. How dare he inflict her with unease? He was hers now! Right? She nearly growled, taking the mask from his face and throwing it onto a near by chair, she pushed him back towards the wall and kissed him madly,

"I am doing what is best for us." she said, operating her voice in such a way as to mimic his own darkness. He stared down at her, and she stared back, once more exchanging passionate gazes. It was all too amusing. This anger was almost foreplay. She kissed him again, deeply. "And our child." she spoke through their kiss, wrapping her arms around him, she didn't stop. It was strange and ironic to her that she now preferred conflict in the bedroom.

* * *

"Can I not trust you to stay in bed when you are ill?" Madam Giry asked Meg, "What were you doing down there. It is dangerous there, I can't even understand why Kristen prefers to live there, in that hole, with him!"

"She loves him!" Meg yelled, ripping her arm away from the hold her mother had on her, "And it is not a hole, it is a lovely place, and my best friend Kristen happens to live there. Why are you so cold towards me mother? What makes me different next to Kristen, or Christine, or any other of your ballet students?"

"Because you are my daughter Meg, you are far more important to me than they are. I know something is going on, something you are keeping secret from me, and I refuse to believe that you were in the cellars talking to Kristen about the productions. I know that if you wanted to talk about that you would have come to me. I am not stupid, what is going on?"

"She is seeing Nadir."

Meg nearly fainted as she saw Christine behind her mother. She felt sick almost immediately. Clutching her stomach, she backed away towards a wall, and rested, her thoughts becoming distorted after the way Antoinette paused in a mad glance. It was surprising how much a moment's shock could inflict minutes of discomfort.

"What!" Was the ballet mistress's response.

"Tell her Meg. You are having an affair with Nadir."

Meg ran. She ran from her mother, from Christine, and perhaps from a life she felt would soon fall apart. Neither of the two made to follow.

Antoinette turned to Christine, "What is all this?"

"I saw them together. I thought you should know, because she had planned to keep this a secret from you."

"He is too old for her, and less than sane. His past is one that I will not allow to be shared with my daughter. He will ruin her life."

Christine watched Meg disappear into the shadows of a walkway in the distance. In a way she regretted what she had just done, but something in her heart told her that telling Madam Giry was the right thing to do. She herself had fallen victim to the love of a strange man before, and she knew the consequences.

Meg found a hiding place. The attic above the theatre. This must have been where Erik disabled the chandelier, and put fire to the Populaire. It was quiet, and empty, and she cried. Christine. How dare she interfere? No one interfered with_her_ when she turned away poor Erik to be with that rat Raoul, and no one interfered with her when she decided to return to the opera house after he had just found happiness with Kristen. Everyone loved Christine, and it seemed to her that they still did, even more so than they noticed her, the little ballerina, one of many, right? Just one of many. They wouldn't need her.

Just as she stood to find Nadir, the door opened, and there he stood. Never before had she been so happy to seem him. But the expression on his face did not match her emotions just then.

"Meg, you've been crying?" Nadir whispered, and walked to her. Embracing her warmly, he asked, 'What's happened."

"My mother knows." she said, allowing herself the comfort of his arms, "you should have seen the look in his eyes Nadir, she was positively mad. It's over, it will never work out, you and I…" She looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks red from her anguish, "We were supposed to be happy." The young girl could literally feel her ambitions crushing along with her heart. Why must love cost so much? Love, if love was the feeling he gave her by just being there, then perhaps she really was in love with him. "Nadir, what do you feel for me?" she asked him, looking up into his eyes, which were filled with worry.

"I feel enough for you to see that this place is destroying you," he said, drying her tears with soft touches, "Look at your tears, how did she find out?"

"Christine told her," She replied between sobs, "she just came right out and said it, as if it were nothing more to her than good gossip."

Nadir closed his eyes, and strengthened the embrace. It was horrible. He knew why she would not want her daughter in his company, but the way that it happened… it was disgusting. "Come away with me," he whispered to her. She felt her own heart stop. Had she just heard what she thought she heard? She looked up at him,

"To Persia you mean?"

"To Persia." he said.

* * *

Kristen laughed behind closed lips. All candles had been blown out at least two hours ago, and nothing remained but darkness. She could feel him however, beside her, both of them were without their clothing, their only cover was shadow.

"You're laughing." he said quietly.

She placed her hand to the right side of his face, and found his lips. Not too long ago, this was her reality, the state of constant shadow. A while ago she would have been frightened, but not now, not after having so much faith in their love. "You make me happy," she whispered to him. She leaned into him, near exhaustion. Nothing exceeded this moment in joy for her. All thought of Christine and Meg and Nadir had faded from her. She placed her hands on her stomach, feeling the tiniest bump where their child rested.

She then felt his hand come to her stomach, and was surprised that although she could see nothing, she knew before hand what his intentions were.

"I wonder if our child is a boy or girl," She pondered in near silence.

"There are ways to…"

"No Erik!" Kristen responded in haste, "I would rather it… be a surprise." She heard the soundless laugh come from somewhere behind her, and she instantly sat up and looked, then remembering all of his trickery, made to smack him on the shoulder, "Erik, don't do that, please, not while the lights are out."

He sat up beside her, and all of a sudden there was a candle, and flame. Realizing she was stark naked in her position, she pulled the covers up over herself, then witnessed the puzzled expression in Erik's eyes.

"Why do you hide your beauty?" he asked her, sitting the candle on an elegant wooden table beside the swan bed. She omitted the lightest sigh,

"I'm sorry, my love," she said, "I guess it was just a reflex." She allowed him to remove the silk red sheet from her feminine form. His touch was the softest feeling in existence to her. Every time his hands and her skin made contact, her heart rate seemed to accelerate to unimaginable speeds. He moved his hands slowly from her shoulders, to her chest, her abdomen, admiring every part of her as if she were a masterpiece. To him, she was the greatest masterpiece ever created.

He softly kissed her, "I love you, Kristen" he told her, his eyes filled with a care he rarely showed for anything else any more. She smiled against the lips which once more claimed another kiss.

"I love you too Erik," She told him.

* * *

"She won't know I'm gone" Meg said, "Not for a while." She quickly, yet carefully, packed her belongings into a plain brown leather bag. She didn't have much, and she was willing to leave behind anything she would not need.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Nadir asked her, watching the anxiety in her eyes. Every few seconds Meg turned from her bed where the bag lay, and looked over to the door, which threatened to open at any moment presenting to her an angry mother.

Meg looked up to Nadir. "All my life I have remained here, and all my life everyone I love has left me here. Christine left me, all my friends who fled the scene that the phantom… I mean, Erik caused, have left. I have no one left here, except Kristen and my mother, and my mother will make me into a full time ballerina for another five years, and then what? After I am twenty or so, my career will be over, and then what will I have? I will be here alone, again. You… make me feel something I have never felt before, I don't want to let go of that." She couldn't believe she'd managed these words, and she couldn't believe the smile she saw on his face after she'd said them. "I cannot stay here and dance behind everyone else who takes a higher rank on that stage." She closed the bag, put it on the floor, and began to make her bed. She was moving much too fast, in such a hurry she was. He gently took her arms, and stopped her,

"You cannot just leave though." he told her. At these words she nearly fainted, again. Then was completely relieved when he said, "At least leave a note for them."

She did this. And just as night began to fall over Paris, Meg left the Populaire, taking one last glance at the building she lived her whole life in. In a carriage which had been waiting near one of the back exits, she started a new life with Nadir.


	34. Turning Points For Everyone

**A/N: Wow, someone wants me to continue, and brought up some very interesting questions as well. Since I was planning to discontinue the story, I was leaving a lot of things out to prevent further questions arising, which evidently keeps the story going. So I will try to hold on to the story as long as possible, but I will be working full time this summer, so I can probably only write one chapter a day, If I can pull that at all. Ok, here it goes, questions answered part 2:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters.**

**Chapter 34**

Christine walked the halls that passed through the dormitories, remembering her days as a ballerina. She remembered the feeling of being 'merely' a dancer, and the triumph she felt upon first singing a leading role. It was spectacular. She'd never dreamed of anything like that before, and to have it come into being so rapidly. It was Erik's doing.

She entered the old chapel. The Angel of Music was never coming back. It was Erik who would teach her now. Would she ever be what she once was?

Poor Meg, she thought. She knew she was right in doing what she did though, Nadir was a possibly dangerous man, she could not risk her young friend. She turned in the hallway to walk back towards Meg's room, when a shadow passed over her. Not one which you would expect to see, but darkness that one feels when something isn't right. The silence was unbearable within the opera house. Nothing was going as planned, apparently. Faster and faster she flew through the halls, and upon reaching Meg's room, (Yes Meg sometimes lived with her mother, but she also had her own room) she knocked furiously on the door. With no answer, she pushed it open, to find a room, empty.

"Meg?" Christine called quietly, and no answer. "Meg, are you hiding? Please don't do this, I know what I did seems unfair now, but…" She stopped all attempts to beckon out the young ballerina, when she found a little note beneath a small sculpted angel. Immediately she read,

Dear Kristen, and Mother

My departure from you is one which I will always lament, though it is also one which I shall cherish. My time here is over. I cannot live the rest of my days in the shadow of everyone else who shines. I will return someday, when my companionship with Nadir is accepted by all who thought it ill. Until then, I am always on your side,

Kristen, I wish you all the happiness in the world, and Mother, I will miss you.  
Meg Giry.  
Christine dropped the paper, and let it flutter to the ground. With the hand she just moments ago held the paper with, she now covered her mouth. Meg was gone! Now she could not help but think that this was all her fault.

"What have I done?" She whispered to herself. She put the note back beneath the ornament, and left. Where would Madam Giry be? She asked herself. With a heavy heart, she made her way to tell Meg's mother what was going on.

* * *

Darkness prevailed once more when Kristen opened her weary eyes. What time was it and how long had she slept? She stood from the bed and found her silken robe, then went in search of the candles. Maneuvering her way through the shadows, remembering the floor pattern she had once moved over in her time of blindness. She came across Erik's desk. She lit a candle with the matches which lay somewhere near by, and sighed, happy to see illumination. She lit another candle, and then another, allowing the light to reach every corner of the lair. She then looked to the curtained passage, and remembered the events of the previous day. Meg, Kristen, and Madam Giry had all piled through there like it was another room in the Opera house, and she saw the look on Erik's face, that annoyed expression. This was once the most secret domain in Paris. How many others would know of it's existence if it all wasn't stopped.

Kristen returned to the bedroom, which for the most part was still blanketed in shadow. She first dressed herself in a less formal, but still beautiful, gown of lavender, and crawled back onto the swan bed.

"Erik?" she whispered, lightly kissing his forehead. Slowly he came from sleep, and looked up at her, "I'm going up for a few moments, ok?" she said, "I have to take care of something."

"Just be careful," he told her, and pulled her down to kiss her lips. She returned his kiss, then left the bedroom.

"I won't be long" She said on her way out, then disappeared from his sight altogether. Kristen's mood changed from loving, to angry as she moved between the world of her heart, and the world of their business. She was almost now angry at HIM for disabling all of his little traps on the pathway down to the lair. She promised herself just then, as she passed through the curtain, that Christine would never return to her dwellings. That woman did not belong there at all. Despite the fact that the tortures were gone, there were still ways of protecting her underground home from intruders, familiar ones or not, and she was going to make sure that no one came back without an invitation.

She did not go the usual way to the surface. She made a strange turn somewhere behind the walls of the Populaire, and ended up where she had wanted to, near the manager's offices. She hadn't forgotten some of the places which Erik had once shown her.  
"So She's finally found a promising cast?" Kristen heard Armande say to Firmin.

"Indeed, some from Italy, England, and France as well. She did the right thing, hiring from an agency, which was not our tradition, but we must all do what we have to do, right?"

"Right" Armande agreed, and so did Kristen, in her thoughts of course. She watched from a hole in the wall. How simple, she mused. Neither one of them suspected being spied on. Further more, she could not believe that Erik hadn't done something like this first. Perhaps she was ruining his focus. She figured he had once devoted his every though to this building, and it's events. What an empty life it must have been. Somewhere within her, she felt happiness at being able to lift the weight of this place from his shoulders. She then spotted the papers. All the papers containing the new blueprints. LEAVE! She mentally screamed to them both. She was going to take them all. No one would be able to find their way around this place now, and she meant no one!

Then, there was a scream. A horrid cry of anguish flooded the silence, and both managers stood from their seats with a start, and went running. Kristen could have sworn that was the voice of Madam Giry coming from somewhere outside that door, but if they were running to her rescue, she had barely a need to worry. With the slamming of the office door, Kristen moved from behind the closet, a passage long forgotten, and out into the office. It was a job anyone could complete, and one which would bring new suspicions into the minds of those two fools. Just then it occurred to Kristen that Armande and Firmin weren't even needed.

Once she had every roll of paper with her, she filed back into the closet, and left without a trace.

She moved in silence behind the walls, back down to the lair, all the while thinking to herself how much better things would be if Armande and Firmin left the theatre. Madam Giry was proving herself more than capable of putting together a cast, Erik was writing all the new productions, those two no longer had a purpose there.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of the grand building, an old lady cried in fierce sadness.

"Madam Giry… My God, Madam Giry, what has happened?" Armande questioned in concern, but he was to receive no answer from the suffering lady, only sobs. Christine however, was quickly becoming the Populaire's newest spokeswoman, who seemed to be doing all the talking for everyone.

"It's Meg, she's gone." the young diva replied.

"Gone? You mean, the little ballerina?"

"Yes" Said Christine, "She's left the Populaire with….. Here's the note." She handed Armande the piece of paper which Meg left behind.

"That will be enough!" Antoinette cried, and grabbed the paper from the manager's hands before he had time enough to read what it said, "Both of you will go back and do whatever it is you do around here, this is none of your business!" She snapped at them, with tears in her eyes. "Christine, you've done enough around here." She then said, with nearly as much anger in her tone as she had sent forward to Armande and Firmin, and Christine was startled. No one, however, would leave.

"Fine, you won't go?" Antoinette challenged, but didn't say any more. She pushed Armande and Firmin out of the way with two very strong hands, and vanished down the corridor.

"Poor Madam Giry," Christine whispered to herself. She could not help but feel that somehow this was all her doing. _What have I done_? She thought to herself, words she knew would plague her now for a time, and watched the curious expressions in the manager's eyes. Meg was gone? How? The diva turned from them and walked away. Her only friend? It was strange to her that all the while Meg was there, she felt as though she had all the friends in the world, but now that she was gone, she felt she had nobody. Kristen didn't really live at the Populaire, she lived with the phantom. There really was no one for her now. She had never felt this lonely before in her life, not even when her father died.

* * *

"My Kristen, what have you done now?" Erik inquired, turning his head from the organ, but Kristen could scarcely answer him. The music he had just been playing completely took over her mind. "Kristen?" he asked.

"Why did you stop?" she queried.

He then frowned curiously, "Tell me what those papers are."

She could not restrain a small smile of guilt. "They're… blueprints for the theatre." she replied. "I thought the fact that everyone knows how to get here was a bit absurd, and since the reconstruction is completed, no one really needs these anyway, so I stole them … And I think we should also change the passage way from here to the surface."

Erik stood slowly from the bench, and moved towards her in his usuall black attire. A gloved hand moved delicately to take the rolls of paper from her arms. "My darling, you are beginning to consume me," he told her. "Your plans are exceptional."

At least he isn't wearing the mask, she thought to herself, noticing the gloves. She looked up into his deep jade eyes, and felt her heart begin to race again. Was it their child within her which made everything seem more alive to her? Or was it just her growing love for him?

"I was pondering the same idea" he told her. Then, a different air came over him. He put the blueprints down on a nearby table, and returned his glance to her. "While you were above, did you notice anything strange?"

"I heard a scream," she told him, "But nothing more."

"It was Madam Giry." he said.

"It sounded like her, what happened? Do you know?"

He nodded.

"What happened?" She further inquired.

"Meg's gone." He informed her.

"Gone? Where?"

"Sometime within the last day, she eloped with Nadir, and-"

"You're kidding!" Kristen boomed excitedly, her enthusiasm taking him off guard. "They left together? That's wonderful!" Eventually, her contentment broke through his apprehension, and he began to smile. Perhaps it was for the better.

"I suppose it is something to be pleased with."

"Something to be pleased with? Erik, she's finally found her future!" Kristen laughed, and hugged him. He returned her embrace, although she knew he was not feeling the same kind of exhilaration that she was, which was understandable. He was Erik, and whatever he was creating before probably had all his emotions, and if she knew any of his music at all, it usually contained some form of agony. She couldn't hate that in the least bit.

"Madam Giry is in a state of shock." he said, releasing her slowly, but holding her still. "I worry for her."

Kristen slightly frowned, "I know, she will not handle this lightly." she said, taking on a more serious tone, but not by much.

"For a woman of her age, I hope she can bare such a depression."

"You really care for her, don't you Erik." Kristen whispered.

"She was the only one who bore enough compassion on my part to bring me here." He stated softly, "I cannot bare to see her saddened."

Kristen lightly sighed. He was right, although it was great that Meg finally found what she was looking for, the way she went after it was enough to break hearts. She hadn't seen it that way earlier, but she saw it that way now. "You're absolutely right." she told him. Kristen saw his mask laying atop the organ. She let go of him to retrieve it, then brought it back to him. "Would you like to see her?" she asked.


	35. Darkness and Ideas

**A/N: Just incase some people didn't read my last notice, anonymous reviews are now allowed, see, I know nearly nothing about computers, it even took me almost 20 minutes to figure out how to enable anonymous reviews! Go ahead, laugh, I deserve it. Any way, I want to thank everyone who reviewed… wow, MOD, you left me a lot! Lol, ok, so I don't know when I will end the story, but I promise to try as hard as I can to keep it as interesting a story as possible, wish me luck.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters. I wish I owned Gerard Butler thought :'(**

Chapter 35

Erik starred at the mask resting within Kristen's hands, the reflection of a nearby candle dancing over the delicate porcelain.

"I wouldn't suggest it." he told her silently. Kristen's brows knitted in worry, she looked up at him, to see him turn away. "I have an opera to work on, this will have to wait."

She put the mask down. What on earth must she have been thinking? She asked herself. "Erik, this is ridiculous. Come with me to talk to Madam Giry, please?"

"No, Kristen," he told her, it was only with every last bit of self will he had left in him to be able to tell her this without frightening her with his maddening temper, although, he saw the way she countered his glare during the debacle of whether or not he would teach Christine, it seemed where Kristen was concerned, he had lost all power to scare her.

"Still, after everything, after me and you, after our child, you will still consider yourself unworthy of the daylight?" She put the mask down onto the nearby chair, and walked towards him with dignity. "Well your self inflicted pain is harming me more than it is harming you now." She told him, nearly choking on her words for the tears threatening to burst through their burrier. She could stand it no longer, but she would not cry before him over this. She brushed passed him, passed the organ, and through the curtained passage, and left him to work on his opera.

Standing there, watching her leave, he knew he'd made a grand mistake.

That stupid Opera, she thought, compared to everything they were supposed to be sharing, this was insignificant._Is this the price of marrying the infamous Phantom?_She asked herself, crying as she made her way to the surface,_To be alone along with him, but not with him?_She had never imagined a relationship with the loneliest man on earth would make her the loneliest woman on earth. She was supposed to save him, not fall victim to his sorrow.

Bursting through the last door, she fell into the hallway, and cried. Sitting against the wall, knees to her forehead, she cried. She was never this weak, she told herself, never so weak as to give into this kind of self pity. But she knew the tears she cried were more for the frustration she now experienced over Erik's lack of will to come into the sunlight, than for her own position in this mess. After minutes of sitting, and trying to come to terms with what was going on between them, it dawned on her that she was not the only one in the theatre who was undergoing severe crisis, and she stood from her place on the floor, and rushed towards Madam Giry's quarters. The old lady was probably dying of a broken heart.

* * *

Kristen softly knocked at the wooden door before her, hoping that Antoinette would permit her entrance. The tears in her eyes would have stained her face by now, Great, she thought, now along with the burn scars on my forehead, my crying has scarred what is left of my skin.

She didn't expect to see the door open so soon after her first knock, but there she stood, Madam Giry, dressed in her normal black instructor's uniform, crying as well.

"Madam Giry, I heard about everything…" Kristen offered.

"Yes, I do suppose the entire theatre knows of what has happened to Meg. Come inside quick, before someone passes by and finds that I really am in here."

Apparently, Giry had been ignoring visits all day. It was only after peering through the tiniest hole in her door and realizing that it was Kristen, did she open the door to let her come in.

"I cannot begin to tell you how startled this situation has me. I want to be happy for her, but.."

"Go on Kristen, you don't have to pretend to be against the situation just to appease me, I know you were friends with my daughter, and I know you saw all of her sadness, just as I had seen it." The elderly woman explained. "Meg was just naïve enough for something like this to influence her. She took off, ran away with the first man she's ever been with, Kristen… she didn't even know him." Giry said, fear flashing through her experienced eyes, "She's putting herself right into the arms of death by going with him."

Kristen sat, at Madam Giry's request, and listened carefully as the ballet instructor spoke.

"He's been a mystery to me and everyone else who knew of him all while he's been here. For years he's assisted Erik in his distorted inventions and plans. The man is capable of evils I am not even familiar with, and she went with him because he offered her some sort of security. She should have waited." Giry pleaded, looking to the ceiling as if searching for a God, "The season will be starting shortly, someone would have come for her, I'm sure of it."

Kristen wiped away tears, now not for her own state of affairs, but for the truth in Madam Giry's speech.

"We all feel this at her age, lonely, scared, frightened that we will be condemned to solitude forever because of simple curiosity. She is not so different from what I was when I was her age…"

Madam Giry continued talking, but now Kristen was beyond the ability to listen. Lonely… Scared… Frightened that we will be condemned to solitude forever… Erik. Meg's fear was so strong that she leapt into the arms of Nadir, whom she hardly knew… but Erik's lived the fear his whole life. Of course he would not come out of that with ease. Kristen, sitting there, soon realized the horrible mistake she'd just made by leaving him down there in the shadow of her anger, just because he acted upon the treatment he'd received through his horrible tortured life.

"Kristen?… Kristen? Wake up" Madam Giry motioned her hand before Kristen's eyes, quickly coming into the knowledge that the young bride and mother to be was no longer listening to her.

"Madam, I'm sorry, it's just…"

"You were crying when you came to me. Something's happened, what is it?" she asked.

Kristen sighted, unsure of whether she would be able to elaborate. "It's Erik. He's…" she waited too long to finish.

"He is what?" Antoinette asked softly.

"He is behaving, just as he always was, although, it is beginning to hurt me, I cannot explain this, I love him, I need him, but I also need him to be here for me."

"Kristen, I can assure you that what you seek is nigh impossible. Erik is a creature, a man no doubt, but the world was cruel to him. You can not expect him to yield into your wishes so quickly. Much must change before he finally becomes willing to ease into your expectations, and even so, even after all the required years have passed, do you think society will have changed for him?"

Kristen knelt her head in grief. "I love him so much," She said, and sniffled as more tears rolled down her cheeks. "I will never understand why he hates himself the way he does."

"It is difficult to explain." Madam Giry began, but wasn't allowed time to complete her words.

"Those two fools, Armande and Firmin, what place do they have here of importance?" she inquired. Madam Giry's eyes widened with wonder, where on earth did that come from?  
"They… sit in their office and… they… work… I suppose."

"No they don't." Kristen said, "I set eyes open them in secret just this day, and I saw them, sitting there in their office, talking about the newest cast, that you yourself put together, and then they heard you scream and they left. I went into their office after they were gone." Kristen would not go on to mention that she had stolen the blueprints, "And I found nothing but books beneath the cover of dust, no doubt the consequence of years of neglect, and I found their lunch. They are not working, yet they reap the benefits of every show you put forth. It seems to me, Madam, that you are doing their work, and quite well, I might add, and so is Erik. We should get rid of them."

Madam Giry's eyes fell upon Kristen with a new light. "What scheming has he taught you that you would spy upon the management, then run to push them out of office?" She asked, with intrigue.

"Enough to know that it would be easier to put their bottoms to the cement outside this very theatre than to watch them thieve away the money from everything you've worked for." Kristen boomed.

"You have a valid point, I will admit." Madam Giry stated, "But…"

"But nothing… When Meg returns here with a husband and a child someday, do you not want to be able to provide for her the riches which she has always deserved?"

Giry Frowned, "a husband and a baby?"

"I assure you Madam, your daughter is in no danger. I've become familiar with Nadir through Erik, he was Erik's assistant only because he is a loyal and faithful man, and nothing more. Listen, Meg will be back as soon as she feels that there will be safety waiting for her. Erik did all of those horrible things and you do not have any concerns over my having his child, or marrying him? Please, try not to worry for her."

Madam Giry sighed now. "Kristen, everything you tell me is quite reassuring, but I am old enough to know the dangers of this world, and to know that there are two paths for the young girl. The one you have just laid out before me, and the one that entails death."

"I know you will worry, but we will have more worries if Armande and Firmin are allowed to claim leadership over our theatre. I say, we kick them out."

Madam Giry smiled for the first time that day, "You are a funny young woman, I must give you that. Alright Kristen, let's go talk to them. But wait… Kristen, their boss is…"

"Christine" Kristen replied. And just like that, everything came together in Kristen's brilliant mind.

* * *

"It doesn't open any more." Kristen entered Christine's old room to find her toying with the old mirror. She expected to find the young diva in all sanity, but now it seemed, she must have been going mad.

"Of course it no longer opens, it's been broken since… you know when. Christine, what do you wish to accomplish by playing with this thing? If you even think you will come near the lair, you are walking on thin ice with me."

"Kristen, I would never think of doing what you are accusing me of. I know that you and Erik have a love stronger than most loves, I would never dream of ruining that. This mirror, I was only remembering and nothing more."

Kristen decided there was no use fighting with the young singer, not right now when it was her favor which she would need to gain. "Christine, I have to speak with you over matters of the opera house."

Christine frowned, "Is there something wrong?"

"Yes, there is something quite wrong. The management, Armande and Firmin, are useless imbeciles, who will do nothing more for us but take our money." Just then, Madam Giry entered.

"Raoul left you everything in his will…Christine, you own the Populaire as soon as you buy it. You've paid for everything already, all that is need now, is the purchase of the land surrounding the Populaire, and you will be our owner."

Christine's eyes widened, "Raoul had a will?" she asked.

"Of course he had a will, those who are wealthy are required to take care of their fortune."

Christine looked back to the mirror. She closed her eyes, and tears slowly presented themselves. "I will do this." She said. Kristen frowned, what was going on through the young girl's mind?

"Christine, you're crying." Kristen stated quietly,

"I'm feel so… lost." the young woman said, and covered her mouth with a trembling right hand. "I'm so lost Kristen, I don't know what I'm doing."

Madam Giry nodded at Kristen, then left them both while she went to file papers through the bank.

"I see what this is." Kristen said in friendship, once more she could not believe how quickly she could feel pity over someone she hated. "Just because you do not have a husband, doesn't mean that you do not have a path to follow. Listen, once the Populaire is yours, and Madam Giry is the manager, and Erik is our composer, everything will be perfect. There will be no more phantom scares, no more loneliness, you will find another to love, my dear, trust me in that, you are young and beautiful, and famous. Everyone will want to hear about the woman who was abducted by the Opera Ghost!

Christine looked up through watery eyes at Kristen, "I'm sure everyone will want to hear about the woman who married him." She said. Kristen frowned.

"No, Daae, Erik will never be mentioned as the opera ghost again. The phantom was announced dead in the Paris news paper long ago. Once people think he still remains they will want to watch his blood spill."

Christine nodded, "Kristen, you are so brave." She said.

"Let's get out of here, this place is burdening you with your past."

The two left the old room, all the while Erik playing on Kristen's mind. She'd left him down there, what must he be thinking?


	36. The Diva Trembles

**A/N: Here we are, another chapter to our happy/sad little story. Ok, so some of you may have noticed that I couldn't help begin another story because of my tiny obsession with pirates, but I will definitely finish this one off before long J, that may sadden some people, but yes, the story is wrapping up. So here's the next chapter, please read and review, I hope you enjoy**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of it's characters.**

**Chapter 35.**

Armand was nearly thrown to the hard wall of his office, as he fell back upon seeing that where once had lain many scrolls containing the proper blueprints for the Populaire, there remained absolutely nothing but a fine layer of dust which marked where they once had rested.

"Firmin, what is the meaning of this?" Armand hollered, eyeing widely the empty desk top.

"I… I, well I don't know, perhaps, perhaps one of the construction workers came by to look at them."

"THE WORKERS LEFT YESTERDAY YOU MORON!" Armand shouted, and batted Firmin over the head with his own top hat, "It's the work of the Ghost! he's back!"

"He's dead" Firmin declared.

"Of course he's dead… but he's still here, can you not feel his presence?"

The two managers looked over their shoulders, and shook in their expensive shoes at the freakish silence that surrounded them, and both jumped into one another as they found Madam Giry standing in the doorway.

"I can assure you, monsieur's, there is no more Opera Ghost. They two of you act like you are five years old, now straighten up, I must speak with you this instant." She told them, calm and collected. She knew that whatever they were frightened about would certainly have had something to do with the Opera Ghost, but not the same Opera Ghost whom had haunted them before. Perhaps it was the Opera Ghost's wife who frightened them. Giry knew they had not yet been married, but were as good as married nonetheless.

"But…" Armand began, but subsided after receiving Giry's cold glare.

"I've got some rather bad news for the both of you, actually" Giry said, "For the past, Year or so, the two of you have mingled in this office, with the stage hands, and no doubt with my own ballerinas. I am not impressed."

Armand and Firmin stood silent and listened, both eyeing one another as if they didn't know what on earth the woman could be talking about.

"You have not met any management standards I have seen played out in our previous bosses, and it is my rather unfortunate job to tell to you both that you are being fired from the Populaire.

"FIRED!" Firmin stated with fury, "How? That's not possible!"

"Oh it is very possible. Miss Christine Daae has purchased the theatre from the City of Paris with the fortune she was left after the death of her husband, and you are no longer needed." Antoinette explained.

"But who will manage the theatre?" Armand asked.

"Oh, we have someone who will do more than just manage the theatre." Giry said, with a glint in her eye. "Have your bags packed, you have one week to find somewhere else to live." Said the lady, and she left their presence quickly. She had never meant to be so cold towards them, but truly they were a bunch of useless idiots.

"One week?" Armand asked.

"Something is not right here." Firmin stated angrily,

"Let's not bother, huh? We've had some good times here, but perhaps…" He looked around, as if continuing a search for a so-called 'spirit', "It is time to go. We'll find another Opera to manage, and we'll put this place out of business."

* * *

"You shouldn't follow" Kristen told Christine, as they stood together in the rotunda, "I have to go back, I did not leave on the best of terms with him."

"Just go, Kristen, I'll be fine here." Christine said, still wondering how this woman could descend so many floors below and be happy. Kristen fled from sight, running down the hallway towards the usual secret passage that she entered through. When she went to pull the trigger that would allow her access, she found that the passage did not yield. Her eyes widened, and her heart began to pound within her chest. She tried it again, it didn't work. What was going on? Instantly her imagination began to torture her, as it usually did, with explanations as to why the contraption was broken. She then turned to look towards the manager's office. There was a passage through there, but Armand and Firmin would be in there right now. The mirror in Christine's old room was broken, and… had Erik broken the door so that Kristen couldn't get back? Perhaps she had finally angered him enough… NO, she told herself, _I am the mother of his child, he would never lock me out._

_'KRISTEN'_.

Kristen stood still, and listened. She knew that voice, she knew that whisper. And she also knew the two men who walked towards her down the hallway, the two men who looked like they were about to fall down and cry with fear. They had heard it too. She stood there, not knowing what to do.

"IT'S THE GHOST!" Armand cried. Oh great, Kristen thought. This was not what they needed right now. From the moment they screamed out in horror they began to run , but alas, Firmin dropped the papers he was carrying, and began to whimper.

"Oh for heaven sakes, the both of you! There is no ghost! GET OUT!" Kristen screamed. Armand frowned with large curious eyes. Who the hell was she to treat him like that? Kristen could no longer take it. Erik's behavior would have scared anyone who didn't know who had created the voice, but the fact that the legacy of the ghost would forever plague the theatre, with reference to Erik, hurt her deeply. "You heard me, I know you've both been fired, now leave! Before I kick you out myself." Armand picked up Firmin's paper, and hurried along, and Firmin followed after him, looking back at Kristen as if he'd just seen the Opera Ghost himself.

When the two were gone completely from sight and sound, Kristen looked around her, "Erik, you scared those two more than a child fears the shadows." She said, "Where are you?"

"You told me you wanted the passage changed, so I changed it." He said, appearing from the darkness.

She sighed, "Erik, I'm sorry for the way I left you down there, for my attitude towards everything, I…"

"Kristen, none of this can be blamed on you." Erik told her. She moved into the shadow with him, and fell into his embrace,

"I think the nightmare is finally over," She told him, "The last of the suspicious just left us forever."

"If you're referring to Armand and Firmin, I think they will carry the suspicion wherever they go. My worry, would be that they would carry this story to the press, for anger of being released from employment here."

Kristen frowned, "I suppose that presents a problem, but not one I wish to spend the rest of our days together worrying about. Now show me our new passage so that I can hear the Opera you've been writing." She told him, smiling up at him.

Kristen soon found herself upon the luxurious sofa within the lair, not so far from the Organ. The newest passage way he had taken her through was something of a total mystery, and she was determined now that she would inquire of everything he knew before their child was born! But not now, not as the music that filled the lair consumed her mind completely. This was to be the newest opera? She didn't know if the audience would be able to handle it, when she could barely think straight when the first key was struck.

She watched him from over the back of the sofa, her arms rested atop it's back, and her head rested gently on her arm. His hands landed gracefully over the ivory keys one moment, then forcefully the next, as the music played itself from_Pianos_ to _fortes_, transforming from one animal, it seemed, to another, conjuring both sadness, joy, and lust from her very being.

Erik hadn't noticed that Kristen had moved from the sofa, to beside him on the bench until he was finished the score. "It's… Genius" She gently whispered, almost afraid to look up to him for the magnificence of what he'd just created.

"It's… for you, Kristen," he said quietly, darkly, everything the song made her feel was portrayed in his voice. The fear she was feeling only made her heart pound harder as she reached up, gently took off the mask he wore, and put her lips to his in what could very well have been the most passionate kiss they'd ever shared together. She parted from him almost gasping for air, then upon looking into his eyes, she nearly cried.

"Erik" she breathed. He stood and lifted her from the bench. She placed her arms around his neck and allowed herself to be carried into the darkness of their bedroom. His music had reduced her to this? He thought. She appeared almost trance-like. It was like a spell. He put her onto the bed, then as she sat, he sat beside her,

"Perhaps you should hear no more of this music until our child is born."

"What? Erik, why? It was beautiful."

"Because of the look in your eyes." he said.

She brought herself to kiss him once more, deeply and passionately, "The look in my eyes is my love for you, not completely for the music."

"You don't know what it does to me to hear you say that." he whispered.

"I love you" She repeated softly, kissing him again, with the music he had only moments ago played flooding back into her thoughts, her embrace to him wouldn't end soon.

* * *

"It's finished." Christine said to Madam Giry, "All the papers are signed, Armand and Firmin are gone, you are the new manager, Kristen is to assist you, and Erik is our official composer, I am your lead singer," The young Diva nearly fainted after reciting such a long list of positions without a breath. She couldn't believe how things were unraveling. "And there is an angry letter here from Raoul's family over how the money was spent…" she added with a hint of exhaustion.

"Do not worry, my dear, there was nothing they could do, or can do. You've done an amazing thing for us all, and for yourself as well."

"Are you sure everything will work out? What if people do not attend the first performance?" Christine asked with worry. She had reason to be concerned, after everything that had happened several months earlier.

"Everything will be fine Christine, I assure you, I already have the names of people who wish to reserve seats for opening night."

Christine frowned. "When is opening night? Where is the new opera? What is it called?"

"Opening night is two months from us now, I have our set designers working in the auditorium this minute, and the finished score is-"

"Right here." Kristen said, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and holding out a large folder of paper towards the ballet mistress. "Everything is in these pages. Madam Giry, I assure you, this Opera House has never heard music like this. The audience will be stuck to their seats quite literally when it comes their time to leave."

"You have heard it?" Giry asked the young woman.

"Yes" Kristen replied, "What Erik has put together, it's truly amazing. It's going to attract people from the four corners of the earth. Everyone will want to hear Erik's music."

"You sound quite excited." Giry pointed out.

"Yes, well, he played it for me, I have every right to be."

Christine watched Kristen and Madam Giry. Slowly she came to realize her hands were no longer still, but trembling by her sides. Kristen frowned at the growing fear in Christine's eyes.

"What is wrong?" She asked,

Christine gulped. "His music." She replied quietly, "Is too much for me."

"Nonsense" Kristen said, "If you only listen to it…"

"No" Christine interrupted, her voice growing faint, with the slightest prediction of tears in the back of her throat. She lightly shook her head, "This can never work, I remember the way… Oh God," She put her hand to her mouth, and found a nearby chair to sit on, she was growing weak already, just looking at the papers.

"Kristin, this is not good. We must do something," Giry said.

Kristen thought for minutes on end, watching the young diva sit there like a frightened child. Why on earth was she like this? Still, after everything she'd been through, she was never made stronger because of it. "Erik will teach her the music, until she is capable of singing with it."

Christine looked up, "I frightened." She said.

"I know" Kristen answered, "But like everyone else in this world, you must face your fears."

* * *

It wasn't long before Kristen had cleared out the auditorium of everything the set designers had been working on. There was a very large room on the other side of the building where props could be created there, but right now, the production itself had to be worked on, and Kristen thought it best to involve the best possible acoustics for Christine to sing with.

The Reunion between Christine and Erik had been an awkward one to say the least, but Kristen was becoming angered at the two of them for treating the situation as if it would result it the world's demise. They were to be strictly business related to one another, and now, Kristen sat in the front row, watching Christine stand on that empty stage alone, while Erik sat at the grand organ positioned out of the singer's sight, but not out of Kristen's.

"Begin on the next note after the first four beats" Kristen heard Erik instruct her. Christine already knew the words well, and didn't sing as badly as Kristen had predicted after being out of training for so long. As it seemed after this rehearsal, everything would work out fine, until she saw the look in Christine's eyes as one of the darkest parts in the song came upon her. The girl would fall from the stage, she could see it now.

"Erik… Stop" Kristen ordered, and the auditorium was filled once more with silence, and the lingering sound of the lowest octave G, hovering about the three of them. "Christine… are you going to be ok?" Kristen asked.

The girl looked down at Kristen, then over the pipes of the organ, "I'm sorry." She said.

"Focus on your character, focus on the story, try not to trouble yourself with the music behind your lines." Erik said, rather emptily. Kristen raised a brow, she could tell he was disgusted with the mere thought of tuning out the music, but obviously the girl had to, otherwise she would fall flat on her face opening night in front of an audience full of Paris's upper crust. At this thought, Kristen burst out laughing, Erik turned and looked at her through the mask he wore, and through wide surprised yet somehow darkened eyes.

"Sorry," She squealed through her humor, "Please," she let out a slight giggle, "Please continue."

"Pull yourself together, this is not to be made a mockery." He ordered.

Kristen sighed lightly, sitting back and watching him. He was something else, had Christine not been on that cursed stage she would have done a lot more with him than just sit there and listen.

The music started once more, and Kristen closed her eyes, and listened to little miss Daae. It wasn't a wonder that Erik had fallen for that voice, it was beautiful. She sang wonderfully, without a doubt.

It took all evening, but eventually Christine was ready enough to get through the first act without becoming dazed.

"It will take a life time before she gains enough sanity to…"

"It's fine," Kristen said, after the first tedious rehearsal. Christine was gone, and Kristen sat with Erik inside box five once more, the silence surrounding them. "Everything will be fine…oh"  
Erik looked at her peculiarly,

"What is it?" He asked her. She smiled at him then, with a hand to her stomach,

"I felt something." she said.

"But you are not so far along."

"I know." She told him, "But I felt something." she repeated warmly, and kissed him gently. "Erik, it's your child, moving." she told him. He smiled at her, and caressed her cheek,

"It's ours." he told her lovingly.  
-  
Just as Madam Giry had said, it took a mere two months for everything to be ready, the set, the dancers, the singers, and the audience. It was opening night, and Kristen sat once again in the first row, only this time she tore the program to shreds with her nervousness, and mentally complained about the makeup she had forced herself to wear to cover the burn scars on her forehead so as not to allow anyone in her presence whom she was not trustworthy friends with to see them. It was a shame, but perhaps now she began to understand Erik's constant attachment to his mask. She smiled, somehow she would rather become more like him than make him more like herself. She looked down at her lovely dark red gown, at four months, she could now officially be labeled pregnant at first glimpse, although she knew she still had a long way to go with this child of theirs.

No one knew who it was who sat at the organ and began the first act, for Erik had made it so that he would be enshrouded in shadow from every point of view of the audience. How clever, Kristen thought, she could not even see her beloved, whom she was destined to marry only a week from this very day. They had planned everything, it would be a small wedding, with only him, Kristen, Madam Giry, Meg, and Nadir, who had agreed to return. In one of Meg's letters that she sent, she explained everything, including that Nadir had returned to his position as Daroga, after telling of his situation with Meg, daughter of the woman who saved a very famous assistant to Mazenderan.


End file.
